


I Still Feel Alive (when it's hopeless, I start to notice)

by writing_and_worrying



Category: Lunch Club, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, it sounds worse than what it is, it's a zombie apocalypse AU what do you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_and_worrying/pseuds/writing_and_worrying
Summary: The world breaks out into a zombie pandemic.Wilbur is stuck in America.Schlatt and Cooper are trying to survive.Ted and Noah are doing just fine, thank you very much.Carson, Charlie, and Travis are more than a bit worried about their friends.DISCLAIMER: I am no longer a fan of CallMeCarson due to the recent allegations that have come out. However, I will not be taking down this fic because I am proud of it as a work of fiction and I don't see why I should sacrifice my hard work for something someone else has done. This was written before the allegations came out. Please keep this in mind while reading!
Comments: 412
Kudos: 427
Collections: smpzapoc au: electric boogaloo





	1. Disclaimer (please read!)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This fic is gonna be either dead within two chapters or absolutely thriving, depending on how messy my writing gets. The first chapter is just a disclaimer and a little explanation of the setup. Hope you enjoy :)

Hello everyone! Before we get into the content, I'd like to do a little disclaimer for you all, so don't skip it!!

1\. This work IS inspired by the current coronavirus outbreak. If you have a paranoid disposition, or you simply don't want to read about pandemics right now, do not read this fic! Even though it is a work of fiction, it still has roots in reality, as many dystopian apocalypse fics do. Please don't read this if you know you're going to be negatively affected by it!

2\. I would never ever want the boys to experience these events in real life! Again, this is a work of complete fiction. I am mostly writing this to fulfil my own need for zombie apocalypse fics, and to vent a bit. I love Lunch Club and Wilbur, and if anyone feels like I'm going too far with anything that happens in this fic, tell me and I will do my best to correct it. It might get really messed up in some places, but I'm not sure yet. So again, be prepared.

3\. I know nothing about America. I'm British. Therefore, even though I know the Lunch Club boys live apart from each other, I've decided to have them living closer for this fic. Don't come at me for not knowing my geography. I don't even know what state I want this fic to be set in.

4\. This is NOT a shipping fic. I don't like shipping the boys because they are real people and shipping has gotten out of hand in the past!

5\. There will be swearing, blood and gore, some messed up stuff, zombies, mentions of suicide (but no actual 'on-screen' depictions of it), hospitals, and bad writing.

6\. Please please please drop a comment if you have something to say! They always motivate me to work faster on releasing new chapters... 

7\. Thanks to @/smp-boundaries on Tumblr, I now have a good idea of what I should and shouldn't include in this fic, so heres a list of things I am going to be doing/not doing to ensure no one is made uncomfortable through my works:

  * I will not be writing violent/gory scenes involving Carson, since he has explicitly stated he doesn't appreciate this sort of thing
  * Carson has said he doesn't like being treated like a 'character' (but he's never said if this is about fanfiction or if he is explicitly against fanfiction involving him). He'll be in the fic, just not as much as some of the others (this fic will mostly be about Wilbur, Schlatt, and Cooper anyway)
  * On that note, I will not be writing anything with excessive violence/gore. There will be some due to the nature of this fic, but I will try my best to limit it
  * As stated before, I will not be shipping any of the boys, they are real people and they find it weird, and it can even mess up friendships (e.g. Travis stopped calling Cooper by a certain nickname because people associated it with their ship)
  * There will be no mentions of real-life relationships (e.g. Ted and his gf) since I know some are uncomfortable with their relationships being written about. Basically the only characters in this fic are going to be Lunch Club, Wilbur, and some random original characters later in the story
  * _I will update this list if more boundaries are brought to my attention!_



Anyway, that is all for now! Enjoy the fic :)


	2. When I'm furthest from myself (Far away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur contemplates how things have become so messed up. Schlatt and Cooper search for survivors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time! Each chapter (and the title) are lyrics taken from the song 'still feel.' by half alive. It's a banger.  
> Also, I think Wilbur may have been to America before but for the purposes of this fic this is his first time there.

Wilbur thinks it started in March. 

He couldn’t remember where. Some country far away from here. Not a concern, some lab test thing going wrong. He hadn’t paid attention to the news because he was hanging out with the boys. Can you blame him? It was his first time in America, his first time meeting these people face-to-face (or, most of them). They had such a good time. 

Vaguely, he remembers Lunch Club doing a podcast episode about it. Before it got serious. Before the bodies piled up.

He watched BBC World News every morning, and he checked Twitter and Facebook compulsively. Any news from Britain, news from anywhere, he had a need for it. The advice was to stay indoors except for shopping and don’t get near anyone. He bought more than the usual one Saturday, just in case, and the next day the shelves were empty. It was all over Facebook.

He remembers waving from his shitty hotel room window as Ted drove away. He didn’t know he’d be hanging out with his friends for the last time when the new laws were launched. Now he can barely picture their faces. 

The internet went down at some point, before the electrics, after the price of oil. He woke up and his social media refused to load. The phone lines stopped soon after, he was mid-call. Everything crumbled. It only took a few weeks. The last piece of advice he got from his TV was ‘Don’t go outside. Don’t get bit. Don’t drink the tap water.’ It was also the last human voice he heard that wasn’t his—if you don’t count screams.

Wilbur Soot has been in isolation for two months. Complete isolation. No phone, no TV, no shopping. His hair was filthy. He hadn't slept in days. He surprised himself, surviving this long. Now, though, he felt almost too eager to die.

He’d been playing his guitar for at least a day and a night. His throat burned for water, but he’d drank the last bottle before he started performing. His hotel room smelt like death already, and he wondered if the others did, too. Everyone ran except him. The other rooms might have food or bottled water in them, he’d known this for a while, but something stopped him from leaving the room. Something inside his head told him to keep playing the guitar, to keep staring blankly at the wall, to just let himself die. 

He wondered if dehydration was a better way to go than suicide. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Schlatt and Cooper found themselves at Schlatt’s place before the whole virus thing broke out, so they had to isolate together. It was stressful and tiring, but at least they had company. When the shit hit the fan and the streets were covered in zombies, they had each other’s backs. When Schlatt found a gun and started shooting shit, Cooper didn’t ask where he learnt to do it. When Cooper risked both their lives to grab a skateboard, Schlatt didn’t argue about it. They kept each other alive, and they kept each other sane. Which is the exact reason Cooper followed Schlatt into the middle of the city—neither of them remembered the name, not that it mattered anyway—to find someone who he knew was dead or far away from this shithole.

Or, he was on board until he saw how dangerous the city could be.

“Listen, dude, what if he’s not here? I heard everyone evacuated this place before the zombies even showed up,” Cooper whispered as they slinked around the streets, keeping to the walls and avoiding floor glass. Schlatt gripped a baseball bat in his hand (his gun was tucked into his belt, too loud and too unpredictable for the city) and his knuckles turned white. He said nothing.

Cooper frowned, he hated when Schlatt got like this. “I’m just sayin’... surely he’d know better than to stick around here.” He heard something growl in the distance and pulled the knife out of his bag in response. They both crouched closer to the ground. He sighed.

“Where would he even get water? Or food? He’d be dead before—”

“Shh. listen,” Schlatt said, cutting him off. They both stopped walking and Cooper tried to catch on to whatever Schlatt was talking about. Nothing. 

“Uh, have you gone crazy already? I don’t hear shit,” he whispered. Schlatt shook his head, but continued walking, slower and quieter than before. Cooper wondered if Schlatt was tricking himself into hearing someone. Wilbur was one of his closer friends.

He halted in his tracks, causing Cooper to walk into him. “There, d’you hear it?” Again, Cooper listened, if this was some kind of joke, his friend better get to the punchline fast. Before he told Schlatt that he still couldn’t detect anything and that he might need professional help, the man was off like a shot in some random direction, crossing the road with an almost sprint. 

“Hey! What the fuck?” Cooper called, but he got no answer. Groaning, he ran after Schlatt, who he’d never seen move so fast. The guy looked insane, running, stopping, looking around, and running again. A zombie shuffled its way towards him, but he smashed its head in with his bat as he ran past. Cooper yelped at the sighed of blood going everywhere, but followed his friend through the city anyway. 

All at once, he caught it. It sounded like humming at first, which confused him, but then it hit him. That wasn’t humming, it was a guitar. Cooper looked over at Schlatt and saw a rare slither of emotion on his face.

“You know… that—that might be anyone,” Cooper mumbled, but he didn’t believe it himself. They were standing in front of the hotel Wilbur stayed in when he came to visit them. He never got to go back home, Cooper realised. The thought made him nauseous. 

From the look of the building, everyone staying there had left or died—or, almost everyone. 

The next thing he knew he was following Schlatt up the stairs of the hotel, stepping over glass shards and debris, avoiding corpses and trying to guess which room the sound came from. Schlatt somehow understood exactly where to go, listening close and sprinting around corners with precision Cooper once dreamt of possessing. 

Schlatt stopped in front of a black door, covered in dents and scratches, but still in better condition than the others. The music definitely came from behind that door, the same few chords over and over. Cooper sensed Schlatt didn’t know what to do. Should he knock? The door wasn’t locked, so they could just walk in if they wanted. There was a god-awful smell coming from the room.

Schlatt breathed. “Aight, fuck it.” 

He pushed the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you enjoyed that! It probably isn't great cause I wrote it in like two hours and it's quite short, but if you enjoyed it don't forget to leave a comment and kudos! Also, how did I do with characterisation? I tried to make each of the boys seem unique and tried to incorporate parts of their real-life personalities. Lots of love and have a good day xx


	3. Feeling closer to the stars (Outer space)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt and Wilbur catch up. Cooper is there too. Also, Ted and Noah are vibing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I loaded up YouTube and it immediately recommended the latest Lunch Club podcast to me. By some wild coincidence, it included all four Lunch Club boys in this chapter! So I spent the whole time trying to figure out their mannerisms and stuff while also listening to the jokes... I still think I didn't quite get Noah right. He is an enigma. 
> 
> Oh well, enjoy anyway!

If you asked Cooper to describe Wilbur in a few words, he would say ‘kind, soft, and funny’ or ‘he’s English’. He’d only met the guy a few times, see, so he didn’t have much to base his assumptions on. One thing he understood, however, was that the man in front of him was  _ not _ the Wilbur he knew. 

He’d seen a lot of corpses in his time, but he’d never encountered one looking quite so alive (not even the living corpses roaming the streets). No rotting flesh fell from this one’s body, no razor-blade fangs dripped red onto the carpet, no pitch-black eyes pierced through his soul. No, this man was living. He just wasn’t living well. 

The stench in the room made Cooper hold the doorframe, keeping himself from keeling over and hurling. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried not to think about it. That’d only end in wasted food and a need for more water. 

Schlatt didn’t seem to care about the smell. At least he didn’t show it if he did. He stared at Wilbur, who stared back, hands resting over the guitar he’d been playing. 

Wilbur shuddered a breath. “Am I fuckin’ hallucinating?” His voice reminded Cooper of sandpaper on wood, but lower. Scratchy, dry, lifeless. Miles away from the fluffy little Britishisms and soft-spoken charm Wilbur used to produce. Schlatt took a step back, overwhelmed or just uneasy, Cooper couldn’t tell. 

“Fucking shit, Wilbur,” Schlatt said, voice cracking. Cooper shrugged his backpack onto the floor and searched through it. He pulled his board from the pack, placing it on the ground with care before reaching in for a bottle of water. Whatever Wilbur was going through, he sounded like he needed a drink. It was a shame Cooper had nothing stronger to give the guy—if only Schlatt hadn’t stolen the rest of his vodka. Oh well.

He held out the bottle to Wilbur. “Here.” He stared at the bottle as if it would kill him, then reached out a cautious hand to take it. 

“Is… is it safe?” Wilbur asked, hand hovering over the bottle. Cooper nodded and he grabbed it without another consideration, unscrewing the lid and downing half of the thing in one go. He paused for breath for a few seconds, then drank the rest of the water. 

Schlatt seemed to have regained his posture. “We thought you were dead,” he said. It started as a strong statement but broke off into a pitiful, wavering confession towards the end, unnerving Cooper with its sincerity. When it was just Schlatt and himself, they had an unspoken rule—don’t talk about the others—but the rule came with mutual understanding: the others were probably dead. Still, they didn’t talk about it.

But now things were different. They had hope.

Schlatt ran a hand through his hair. “How, shit, how long have you been here?” The room was littered with empty water bottles, food wrappers, and general trash. Plates and bowls were stacked in the little sink in the corner, right next to a turned-over kettle. Cooper couldn’t imagine living in such a small space for more than a few days. But if this was the same room Wilbur booked for his visit in March—

“Couple months I think. Phone's dead, I don’t know,” Wilbur replied, quiet and rough around the edges. Schlatt grimaced and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. They sat like this for a beat. Silence. From nowhere, Schlatt hugged Wilbur, grabbing him with force and not letting go, hiding his face in the man’s hoodie. Cooper felt like he was intruding. 

Wilbur patted his friend on the back and raised an eyebrow. “Schlatt… are you crying?” Schlatt pulled away and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sniffing. 

“No,” he said with another voice crack. He’d never been a good liar. “My eyes are watering ‘cause you stink. When was the last time you showered, huh?” This earned him a soft laugh from Wilbur and a smirk from Cooper. The former readjusted his guitar and plucked a few strings, because what else was there to say?

The two of them sat and listened to Wilbur’s melodic guitar, both thinking the same thought. It nagged at them in a vague way as the sun fell in the distance. But they wouldn’t voice the thought. Not yet, anyway. They wouldn’t say it, but the seeds of the question were there. 

If Wilbur survived, who else is out there?

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ted started the so-called apocalypse on his own, but he’d be damned if he was going to finish it that way. So he packed up his shit and got in his car and drove. A big car, with wheels that could take you anywhere, he’d bragged about it before everything went to hell. It could hold maybe seven or eight people in a squeeze, he’d say. Finest seats in the world, too. So soft.

He refused to look at those empty seats for a damn long time. 

Then, by some stroke of luck, he found Noah. And Noah found gasoline—and weed—and suddenly they were back in business. He wasn’t sure where they were driving to, but they were certainly driving. 

“Hey, pass the map,” Noah said. Ted sighed as he grabbed their shitty map-book from the seat behind him. He didn’t give it to Noah.

He opened the map to where he thought they were, trying to figure out how the coordinates worked. “You can’t have the map, you’re driving—and you’re high, you shouldn’t be driving anyway.” He looked up just in time to see Noah roll his eyes. 

“I’m not that high—” Ted gave him a look—”but if you care so much, I’ll pull over. It’s getting dark.” Noah flashed a grin as he pulled the vehicle to a rough halt into the dirt and plants at the side of the road. Ted cursed himself for letting Noah drive his car, but he preferred being worried for his life half the time to being exhausted from driving all the time. 

They unbuckled their seatbelts and grabbed their respective weapons of choice (a metal pole for Ted and a shotgun for Noah) before opening the car doors and making their careful ways outside. The one part of their day they took seriously, checking their surroundings for any creatures that want to kill them. 

Nothing there this time. 

Ted grabbed a couple of water bottles and some beef jerky from the back seat of the car, then lifted himself onto the hood. Noah soon joined him, grabbing a bottle and taking a long drink. He stretched his legs, he’d been driving for three hours.

“The stars are so… there’s so many,” said Noah, rubbing his eyes. Ted let out a laugh.

“No shit,” he said. Noah was right, there were more stars in the sky tonight than Ted had ever seen in his life. It had something to do with light pollution, or whatever, but he wasn’t going to let his high-off-his-ass friend know that. He felt glad they pulled over before whatever the guy ate took full effect. 

Noah groaned in frustration. “No, I mean, it’s nice to see ‘em.” He flung his arms up above them both, as if trying to touch the sky. He always had big dreams. 

Ted gave his shoulder a light shove. “Whatever you say, champ.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere nearby, a creature stirred. Its black eyes glinted under the starlight as a sound pricked up its ears. Two voices. Laughter. It sniffed the air and grunted, the noise alerting another creature, and another, and more. Close, there was something much better than the corpse it had been feeding on. Close, there was prey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Ted has dad energy. That'll be something I want to keep going back to maybe? Anyway if you enjoyed or have any feedback drop me a comment! Thank you for reading and have a nice day! xx
> 
> P.S. I'm trying to put a little something in each chapter that relates to the chapter title! Just for fun hehe


	4. I've been invaded by the dark (Can't escape)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some new faces! Plus some chat between Wilbur and Schlatt :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this has really helped me feel productive! Thank you for all your supportive comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Not much happens, it's more about setting things up? But there's still some stuff in here :)
> 
> Also, I didn't proofread this so sorry if there are mistakes or sentences that don't make sense.

The question is how are they coping. The answer is: not well. 

Carson, Travis, and Charlie have been at Promise Laboratories for a month now. They found it through a string of coincidences and a splash of good luck, a huge fortified building in the middle of nowhere. The people inside were all medics or scientists, about fifteen of them, along with a few medical patients, and they welcomed the boys with open arms. They provided food and clean water, and individual rooms for each of them to sleep in. Some would call it a blessing. 

But when you don’t have to worry about survival, certain things get a lot harder to ignore. Their friends, their families, the fate of the world, and society. If the zombies all died, how would they rebuild? Would anything ever be the same? What if the medics got tired of looking after them and threw them back into hell? Who else—

“Carson, what’re you thinkin’ about?” Charlie said, a light smile ghosting his face. They were at lunch (it was funny the first time) in the Laboratory’s cafeteria, just the three of them. Carson looked down at his food and realised he’d barely touched it. He’d been spiralling… again. 

He frowned and shook his head. “Nothing.” Before he was further questioned, he took a bite of a roll from his plate. Charlie sighed.

“It’s not true, dude. I know there’s somethin’ going on in that brain,” he said, a lilt in his voice as if a joke had been made. Carson supposed the guy couldn’t help it. If he didn’t keep high spirits, who would? Still, his friend’s comic tone grated on him sometimes. 

Carson shrugged, focusing his attention on his food. The awkward, fake laugh Charlie gave in response gave him a nasty sense of achievement. He pushed the thought down, trying to remember that it was all just a way to cope, and he should go easy on his friend. They all had their ways. Travis didn’t talk much anymore. No, that’s wrong, he didn’t talk at all. Carson himself couldn’t identify what his distraction was, but he was sure if he asked Charlie he’d find out soon enough. 

They’d never talked about the others. Their friends. Not Noah, who’d disappeared just before the outbreak hit America. Not Cooper and Schlatt, who dropped off the grid once the phones went down. Not Ted, who told them he was driving somewhere, but never told them where.

It was time to bite the bullet. “Charlie… we need to talk.” Charlie offered a patient smile, eyes shining cautiously under the sterile lights which were found in every room. 

“About what?” Another nervous chuckle tugged at his words. Travis looked up at him, too, saying nothing but listening. Carson noticed a medic at a table near theirs glance up, intrigued or just making sure they weren’t plotting anything. 

“We have to—” he took a breath—” to come to terms with, uh, the… possibility… of our friends being, um, dead.” Fucking shit. That was a train wreck. The medic who was watching them turned back to his food. 

Without warning, Travis stood up, grabbing his plate with trembling hands and rushing away from the table, dropping his plate at the dirty plates drop-off and leaving the cafeteria before either of them got a word in. 

Charlie glared at Carson. “Seriously? Why did you say that? You know he’s sensitive,” he said, a venom in his tone Carson had never caught before. It almost seemed like it had always been there, brewing away under the surface, so easy to bring out, strong enough to make him feel instant guilt. 

“I’m sorry, it had to be said.” He didn’t want to look at Charlie. But he heard him sigh and felt obliged to glance up. The guy looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“No, no, you’re right. Bad timing, but we will talk about it,” said Charlie, defeated. Thank god, the harsh tone had vanished. 

Carson raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Charlie nodded, an expression on his face Carson couldn’t read.

“Yeah, we will. Later. I’ve gotta go check on Trav.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite his initial disgust at Wilbur’s hotel room, Cooper didn’t have much trouble falling asleep in the bed. They’d decided to take sleeping shifts, but Wilbur couldn’t sleep (he rarely could these days). So now he was talking to Schlatt as they sat on the floor, trying their best to whisper. 

“You haven’t seen them, then?” Schlatt said, raising an eyebrow. They were talking about the zombies. Wilbur learnt that Schlatt didn’t enjoy using the word zombie, because it made him feel like a character in a TV show, so he’d now become dedicated to calling the creatures ‘zombies’ as much as possible to piss him off. That’s what friends do!

Wilbur shrugged. “Only on the news.” He remembered the shocking images they’d shown on the TV, and the professionals they interviewed before it reached the West. How high and mighty they seemed, commenting on science they didn’t understand in a country too far away to matter.

“Good. They’re—they’re horrific. All teeth and black eyes and shit.” Schlatt grimaced, trying to block his own memories from surfacing. He’d seen the creatures up close far too many times. The blood on his baseball bat proved it.

“I’ve heard them. They were in the building, once. I thought they were gonna find me,” Wilbur admitted. The shrieks and growls of those things as they got closer and closer—he’d have a hard time forgetting that. 

Schlatt breathed out a curse. “Shit, Wilbur…”

“I’m glad they didn’t,” Wilbur said. He decided to stop thinking about it. “Would you rather be dead, or be one of them?” That wasn’t a much better topic, but he tried. Schlatt scoffed.

“Dead, without a fucking doubt. If one of those creatures gets me, don’t hesitate—y’know what I mean?” He mimed shooting a gun. Wilbur cringed and nodded. Still, he didn’t know if he would do such a thing. 

Schlatt stretched his arms out with a groan, then looked out the window at the setting sun. He sighed out of boredom. “Hey, I might go on a supply run. I think people were so quick to leave this place they left behind some supplies and crap.”

Wilbur gave a casual nod. “All right, but don’t be long. I can only listen to Cooper talk about skateboards for so much time, and I bet he’ll wake up as soon as you go.” 

Schlatt laughed and grabbed his bag, full of emergency food and water. He picked up his baseball bat and made sure his gun was still in his belt, then waved at Wilbur before sneaking out of the door, careful not to wake Cooper as he closed it behind him.

Wilbur smiled to himself as he listened to Schlatt’s footsteps grow fainter. God, he was glad to have him back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe you will have to wait until next chapter to see what happens to Ted and Noah... I hope you enjoyed this one anyways :) If you have any feedback please drop me a comment! They are really nice to read and they inspire me so much! Thanks for reading and have a great day xx
> 
> me: I can't wait to write about Travis! He's the best and his reaction to the apocalypse should be so interesting to write  
> also me: *makes Travis mute and gives him one (1) paragraph of action*
> 
> \- Ren :D


	5. Trying to recognize myself when I feel I've been replaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted and Noah don't have a good time. Promise Laboratories makes a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry I didn't upload yesterday I was playing animal crossing!!! (and doing homework but that wasn't as fun) I just have a couple of disclaimers for this chapter, so please read them :)
> 
> WARNING: this chapter contains blood and gore! If you would like me to tell you specific paragraphs to watch out for before you read, please don't hesitate to ask! Also, there are some descriptions of a gun being shot and loaded, so if that upsets you, again please do ask! 
> 
> Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I'm actually quite happy with how it turned out :) I hope you enjoy reading it!

Nothing sobers you up faster than creatures from hell trying to rip you apart, so they say. Noah could vouch for that right now. He heard the monsters before Ted did, somehow, it’s just that he didn’t register it as a hoard until he turned around. 

“Fuckin’ shit!” He shouted, throwing himself off of the car hood and backing away. Ted reacted a second later, leaving their weapons behind in a panicked scramble to get away. The creatures were slow, they knew this from previous close-calls, but they were closing in faster than what was comfortable. Noah looked at Ted, who had raised his fists. They had to think fast. 

Noah saw his shotgun leaning against the left side of the car. The creatures approached from the right, so in theory… he might make it. Ted pulled him backwards, glaring at him and shaking his head. A creature groaned, swiping at them with a clawed hand—it almost had them.

Ted took a few steps back, dragging Noah with him. “We have to run.” But running meant leaving the car with no food and no weapons. They might not come back. Without the car, they’d be hopeless. The creatures closest to them snapped their bloodied jaws and reached out, their movements erratic and inhuman. 

Noah made a decision. He pushed Ted away from the hoard, making sure the taller man couldn’t grab him, and ran to the car, avoiding the creatures as their animalistic sounds filled the air. Ted shouted after him, but he didn’t know what he said. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he reached for his shotgun, already loaded, and aimed it at the nearest creature. 

BANG

The creature fell onto the hood of the car with a sickening noise, half of its head gone, jaw still moving. Blood covered Noah’s hands and the shotgun in rotten dark patches and, god, the smell. Another creature screamed and he realised he didn’t have time to think. He pointed the gun straight at the thing’s head. Its eyes glinted as it reached for him.

He didn’t even notice the shot that time. His ears rung with white noise and muffled shouting. Everything slow, dreamlike, as he counted the remaining beasts. Five, maybe. His world floated. The next kill was automatic. Four. The taste of gunpowder and iron sat on his tongue. He raised the gun. Three. If he squinted, almost human. No. Not now. All he knew was the cold metal under his fingers. The weight of the gun in his arms. Two. Headshot, again, he might almost pretend they weren’t real. One. The bodies piled in front of him. Keep it together. The trigger gave way under his hand.

The gun clicked. And nothing happened. Six shots. Seven creatures. Fuck. 

The creature came towards him, and he remained still. He wanted to move, but his legs weren’t responding. He fumbled with the gun, trying to fish out the spare shells in his pocket. His hands shook and he took a stiff step back. The old shell cases fell to the ground, leaving the gun ready to reload. Noah dared to glance up, seeing the monster only a few metres away. In his panic, he dropped the spare shell. The sound it made as it hit the floor was pitiful. 

Noah collapsed to the ground, his whole body trembling. He grabbed the shell and loaded it into the gun. The creature growled, practically on top of him. Ted screamed something as he aimed the shotgun up. No hesitation. The thing gripped his leg. 

Zero. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie paused as he stood outside Travis’ door. Was he the best person to talk to the poor guy? Wasn’t he the funny one, not the emotions one? What would he even say? He wished Cooper was here, he’d know what to do. He’d talk about skating and ease everyone’s minds with something only he’d come up with. He’d comfort Travis like a second nature. Shit, if only Carson hadn’t said anything at lunch. 

With a shaky breath, he knocked on the door. It’s not like he expected an answer, but he thought he should do it anyway. Of course, Travis didn’t reply. He walked in anyway. 

“Hey,” he said to the figure curled up on the bed. The figure moved, revealing a tired-looking Travis. He gave a weak smile and a little wave. Charlie smiled back and sat on the floor, back to the wall opposite the bed. Mirroring his actions, Travis sat up, yawning. 

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. “So… um… sorry for what happened at lunch, dude. I—”

A knock at the door cut him off mid-sentence. He and Travis turned to the door.

“Uh, come in?” Charlie said. The door swung open to reveal Carson, who looked excited. He walked in and shut the door behind him. Charlie raised an eyebrow at his friend, it wasn’t often the guy looked so happy. 

“They got the broadcaster working! They’re sending out a message right now!” Carson said, grinning. Travis made a small sound of surprise.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair. “What are they saying?” The broadcaster was a project Promise Laboratories had been working on since before the trio arrived, a signal with the potential to send a message to people 100 miles away. If they’d got it working, they could bring survivors to safety. 

“They’re giving the coordinates and saying they have a cure for the virus,” said Carson. Charlie wondered if giving that kind of information would get them in trouble. Raiders, gangs, selfish types looking to stock up on medicine. Plus, the medics barely had a cure. It was more of a prototype, or so they said. They weren’t allowed to go to that section of the Laboratory. 

Charlie shook his head. The medics had probably thought of all those things. He’d just be happy to see some new faces. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sat in the car, speeding down the highway at ungodly speeds. Noah picked at the dry blood on his arm. Thank god he’d covered his mouth before that last creature fell on him, or else he’d be just as dead. He couldn’t wait to get to a river. 

Ted had said nothing for a while, leaving Noah with the unfortunate shreds that were his thoughts. When he closed his eyes all he saw was blood and all he heard were gunshots. The shotgun rested on the backseat, cold and bloodied. He never knew he could do something like that. 

Goddammit.

Without warning, the little radio Ted insisted on carrying around crackled. He slowed the car to a stop and fished it out of his pocket, staring at it in wonder. Noah thanked god for the distraction as it buzzed and came to life. The following words were a blessing.

_ Attention survivors! We have food, shelter, and safety! Come to Promise Laboratories for all this AND a cure to the virus! We can be found at the following coordinates: _

Ted reached for a pencil (that man was prepared for anything) and scribbled down what the feminine voice said. Noah felt like passing out. It was all too much, today. First the attack and now a whole new category of danger. He imagined what kind of shit would happen next. Wow, he wished he was still high.

“Holy shit,” said Ted, dragging Noah out of his mind once again, “It’s only seventy miles away. This is great!” He studied their map intently, pointing to sections and tracing roads with his fingers. Then, he frowned. A flash of worry shone in his eyes. He pointed to a city and mumbled something, but Noah didn’t listen. Back in his own world, he just nodded and turned away. 

Noah watched the sky through the window and wondered if he would ever be a person again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, glad you made it to the end :) If you have any feedback please drop a comment, I really appreciate it! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day xx
> 
> \- Ren


	6. I can feel a kick down in my soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooper goes out. Ted reads the map. Noah is having a Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh sorry this chapter is like two days late?? I struggled with writing Cooper so I decided to binge-watch a bunch of his content. This didn't help much so hope you enjoy an out of character lad! 
> 
> This is the longest chapter yet!! I had a lot to say in this one I guess haha. Hope you all enjoy it :)

Cooper talked about skateboards for two hours, then they both had bigger worries. Schlatt never came back from his supply run.

Two days later, Wilbur resigned himself to hopelessness. The last conversation he’d had with Schlatt kept playing over and over in his mind. Stuck on a loop, just as before. He held onto his guitar as the hours went by, watching the wall or the floor or the window and wishing things could be normal again. He didn’t cry. 

It was like he’d been hanging from a cliff edge for two months, screaming for help, for company, for anything. He almost gave up, almost went off the edge. Then, Cooper and Schlatt arrived with a rope to help him up, and it almost worked. It almost bloody worked and now the rope had fallen. Someone let go, and he was stuck again but this time he couldn’t even scream for help because help was  _ here  _ and he blew his chance because he didn’t offer to go with Schlatt on his damn supply run and, fuck! Nothing could help him now.

No, he didn’t cry, but he felt so  _ stupid _ . 

He wondered how the rest of the world was doing. His family and friends back in Britain, Niki in Germany, hell, the rest of his American friends, too. So many things he would’ve said differently if he’d known. So many arguments. 

And even now, Wilbur was fucking things up. Cooper had grown increasingly tired of his shutdown over the situation and kept trying to make him get up and do something. Wilbur had eaten nothing since Schlatt left, but he’d been convinced to drink some water, at least. 

The two of them were at a constant standstill. Cooper trying to make Wilbur face the facts and figure out what to do next and survive, and Wilbur yearning to be left alone—to be left to melt away into nothing. Into obscurity and rot. 

Wilbur felt guilty for being so cut up about everything. Cooper must be handling matters much worse. He and Schlatt were on the road for so long, just each other for company and protection, he’s lost a best friend. Either that or they’d been betrayed, but that didn’t seem like something he’d do. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to offer the guy any kind of support. He let himself fade in and out of reality, sometimes playing his guitar, imagining that his two friends never found him, and he was wasting away, once again. 

He didn’t notice Cooper leave. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost shocking how many supplies were left in the shops. Cooper supposed the city had been evacuated in such a rush no one had time to raid the local drug stores. Such luck he had. How horrible it appeared. 

Nothing moved in the city. He tried to ignore the empty streets and huge lifeless buildings. The little sounds of his footsteps and his heartbeat. Focusing on it for too long made him realise how small and pointless he was. How insignificant everything he was doing would turn out to be. 

He longed to be back in time, to before all of this, falling off his skateboard and laughing with his friends, with the hope of a good career in front of him. Now, everything had fallen apart. There was no need for stupid stoners in the apocalypse. The only reason he was even still breathing was because of Schlatt. Schlatt and his questionable knowledge of firearms and talents with first-aid and total lack of self-preservation skills.

Well, look where that got him.

Scattered papers moved in the breeze, on occasion. Cooper scavenged from a couple of small stores, gathering supplies and disregarding the moments where he expected someone to have his back. The only interesting thing he saw was a zombie, mindless and still, growling at nothing. His hands brushed the gun in his belt. No, he didn’t want to make noise, and he couldn’t aim for shit. Schlatt taught him how to shoot just a week ago. The zombie stared at the floor. It looked lonely.

Turning a corner, he came across a gas station. The sight of its emptiness irked him in a way he didn’t understand. He should get back to Wilbur soon. If the man had any sense left, he’d be wondering where Cooper had gone. 

Then he saw it. Hard to miss, a body in the middle of a deserted road, laying perfectly still, as if asleep. Peaceful. Cooper felt his muscles seize up as he approached the figure. So tranquil, deathly quiet. A suddenly skyrocketed heartbeat hurt his chest, threatening to break his ribs. He got a better look at the corpse.

Brown hair, pale skin, distinctly tall, even on the ground. A bloody baseball bat lay nearby. He already knew what he was looking at, but he got closer anyway, hoping that he’d made a mistake, seeing things, going mad. Shit, he’d rather be insane. 

He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to see it.

His friend’s corpse lay before him. There was no blood. Static filling his mind, Cooper fell to the ground, throwing his backpack to the side and checking the body for any signs of life, or a cause of death. Scouring his mind for the first-aid Schlatt taught him, he checked the man’s body for signs of injury. The eyes stayed shut, thank god, as he checked the face. Nothing. But he wasn’t giving up yet. He swore he saw a hand twitch. 

Optimism flashed in his mind as he fumbled to find a pulse. Nothing on his wrists, but maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough. He rolled up the shirt sleeve and— 

No. Oh,  _ god _ , no. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah recognised the city as they got closer to the centre. Ted had mentioned it again, not that he was paying attention, and said they had to stop there for gas and maybe extra supplies, just in case this ‘Promise Laboratories’ place was a scam. Noah didn’t figure out exactly why he recognised the place until they turned a very specific corner and everything came back to him.

“Oh. Wilbur,” he said, mind still somewhere else, in part. Ted glanced at him and shook his head, muttering something about already saying that like two days ago, man. He continued to drive, shooting past the tall building that used to be Wilbur’s hotel. Noah pondered if the Brit was still kicking. He’d been thinking about that kind of thing a lot, lately. 

Ted looked at the map he’d stuck under the steering wheel, slowing the car. “Okay, there should be a gas station around here somewhere.” He turned another corner while not looking at the road, consulting the map further. He mumbled a ‘yeah’ and looked up. Noah decided to also look up when he heard Ted gasp. 

“I—is that…” he trailed off, stopping the car. Noah squinted. He saw a figure laying on the ground with another figure hunched over it. Trying to focus, he looked at Ted with an eyebrow raised, silently asking him to elaborate. Ted didn’t respond, instead choosing to unlock and open his door, scrambling to get out. 

Noah followed close behind as Ted ran towards the two figures—two people?—grabbing his bloodied gun from the back seat. He hesitated as he felt the cold metal in his hands once again, but if Ted was going to run up to random people in the streets, he’d probably need it. 

Then he heard Ted call out “Cooper?” and he started to run, too. The hunched-over figure looked up, an expression of utter shock covering his face. Oh, it was Cooper alright. Longer hair and less healthy-looking but it was him. Noah grinned. 

Cooper let out a sound, incomprehensible. Ted suddenly slowed to a stop in front of their friend, covering his mouth with his hand. Noah tried to see what was happening while Ted blocked the view, getting closer. 

“Oh, fuck, is he…” Noah heard Ted say. He saw Cooped nod and desperately tried to see the scene. He reached Ted and nudged him out of the way. 

He almost dropped his damn gun. 

The lifeless body of Schlatt lay on the ground, one shirt sleeve rolled up to show a vicious and bloody bite mark. Little specks of black blood surrounded the wound, indicating infection. Noah felt sick. Ted held his shoulder, a pillar of support as he took in everything he was seeing. 

Ted clicked his fingers. “We just got a—a signal. There’s this place, Promise Labs, they said they have a cure—” 

“You want to put him in your  _ car _ ? He could wake up any minute!” Cooper cut Ted off. Noah felt dizzy, he hadn’t even thought of the Labs. How could Ted be so quick? 

“Changing can take days, or, uh, a week. I saw it on the TV,” Noah said, dreary. Cooper looked concerned, glancing at their friend’s body and then back at Ted. He stayed silent for a beat, then nodded.

“All right. Get him in the car and I’ll go get Wilbur,” he said, grabbing his bag. Noah saw that it had a skateboard in it, then his brain caught up and registered what he’d said. Wilbur was alive? He opened his mouth to speak but Ted stopped him with a step forward and a wave of his hand.

He shook his head. “No, no, we need to act now. The sooner we get back on the road, the less time we have to spend fighting a  _ creature _ while driving a car.” Cooper flinched at the word ‘creature’ and looked back at Schlatt’s body. He took a breath.

“I have to get Wil. Give me the coordinates of this place and we’ll see you there.” He looked to Ted with expectant eyes. Noah had never known him to be so straight-laced. So not-Cooper. He supposed he wasn’t very Noah right now. Ted pulled the notebook and pencil from his bag, scribbling down the coordinates. The tearing of the page filled the air as they all stared at each other. 

Ted handed Cooper the paper. “It’s fifty miles away. You could fucking die!” Cooper took the paper and scoffed. 

“Wilbur will die without my help and Schlatt—he’s already dead. He needs you to get this cure,” he said. 

Ted sighed and nodded, an unreadable expression on his face. “Fine. See you there.” Cooper hummed in agreement and sped off, leaving in seconds. Noah couldn’t help but wonder if that was the last time they’d see him. He didn’t even get a proper conversation.

Ted stared at the body on the floor. “Help me with this, won’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))) well, that was certainly something. If you enjoyed please drop a comment with some feedback!! I ended up really liking this chapter even though I'm pretty sure the characterisation was all over the place. Thank you for reading and have an awesome day!!!! xxxxxx
> 
> \- Ren


	7. And it's pulling me back to earth to let me know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah thinks too much. Cooper and Wilbur begin a long journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) sorry this chapter took a little while to get out, I had some serious writer's block and couldn't quite get the vibe I wanted for ages. This chapter gets a little heavy in certain places, so be sure to read the warnings!
> 
> WARNINGS: panic/anxiety attack, blood and gore, vomiting, self-destructive behaviour

The tension in the car was palpable. Noah drove, not trusting himself to monitor the cold body laying across the back seats, while Ted watched their dead friend through the rearview mirror. No one spoke. They’d been driving for half an hour.

They hit a pothole and Ted cursed, breaking the silence and turning around to check on Schlatt. Noah didn’t look—he hadn’t looked since he started driving—instead, he kept his eyes focussed on the empty stretch of highway ahead, barren and neglected, and tried to not think about the fucked up situation they’d found themselves in. 

Ted turned back and looked over their map. Noah resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They didn’t need it, the road was straight and the next turn they needed to make was at least twenty minutes away. Despite this, Ted had studied the map every few minutes since they started driving, filling the dead space of quiet between them with his fake ramblings. 

Meanwhile, In Noah’s head, a series of debates were being held—which all came to the same resounding conclusion. It was almost like a mental block. Once he got too far down the rabbit hole of thought, his mind stopped him dead and gave him a simple answer. He knew it was no use trying to reason with himself, though. He suspected he was dealing with some trauma, but didn’t have the energy to assess the concept.

Tired of dancing around the subject, Noah sighed, daring to turn to Ted. “Hey.” Ted looked up from the paper and nodded. Noah frowned, pausing. Did he really want to say this? 

… 

Yes. He did.

“Do… do you think they’re still human?” he asked. He looked away, back at his hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white. He felt Ted staring at him, burning holes in his side. For the second time this week, he wished he was high. 

Ted tapped his finger on the side of his seat. “I guess I have to.” Noah slowed the car, he needed to focus. He shook his head.

“Why?” 

Ted shrugged, seeming unphased by the uncomfortable topic. “Well, if there’s a cure, they’re just… sick.” Noah felt a sharp flash of anger in his chest. How could his friend be so casual about this? How was he so calm with the implications of what he just said?

“No, no. That can’t be your reason!” He heard the irritation in his voice bubbling to the surface. It was an ugly emotion on him, but he couldn’t stop himself. Ted gave him a concerned look, laughably bothered. Had he not noticed the decent Noah had been taking mentally for the past week? Did he even care?

“Noah—”

Shaking, Noah cut him off. “No! You can’t think they’re human. You—you can’t because… because if they’re people then—” a horrid thought overwhelmed him—” then I’ve fucking  _ killed _ people. Fuck.” With that, he let go and dissolved into a mess of curses and tears. God, he hadn’t cried like this in a damn long time.

He slowed the car further, unable to see the road through his sobs. Images of the creatures he’d shot flashed behind his eyes, their rotting bodies falling to the ground with sounds he would remember for his whole life, his screams and theirs flowing as one. Noah’s breaths became faster, frantic, as he screwed his eyes shut. Ted reached out and touched his shoulder, but Noah recoiled, hunched over and about to throw up. The smell of blood clouded his thoughts as the car swayed from side to side.

A pathetic noise of grief echoed around the car. Noah watched his tears splash against the dry, black blood on his hands, running down onto the floor. The blood had been embedded into his skin for days, stuck under his fingernails, cracking over his knuckles, with no way of washing it off, it had become a part of him. A sudden need to scrub the dirt from his skin overwhelmed him. 

His chest ached as he struggled to breathe through the thick fog of rot and decay filling the air around him. On the back of his tongue the taste of iron festered. Ted said something, but all he heard was his heart beating in his ears. He felt himself start to slip away into unconsciousness, the stress of everything finally catching up to him in a dark cloud of horror.

Ted grabbed his arm, knocking him from his delirium. “Noah, pull over.” A vague sense of recognition fell into his head as his hands readjusted themselves on the steering wheel. Oh, he was still driving. 

“Wh—”

“Pull over! I think he’s waking up!”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I don’t think we can do this, man,” Wilbur said, dull in tone and physicality. He carried his guitar on his back and a fabric satchel full of supplies as they walked through the city centre. Cooper held Schlatt’s baseball bat and the backpack he’d been carrying for months, as well as the useless gun in his belt. He sighed, already tired of Wilbur’s attitude.

He tapped the bat against the concrete. “Dude, we won’t get there if we don’t try.” His expression was equally dry. They’d been having this argument for two hours now, ever since he found Wilbur, who was not where he’d left him. 

Instead, the man had phased out of his catatonic state in his hotel room, assumed Cooper had either left him for good, or been a figment of his imagination the whole time, and decided the best course of action would be to go wander around until he collapsed and died. Lucky for Cooper, his weak legs didn’t get him very far before being discovered. This man would be the death of him.

Said man hummed a little unconvinced tune in response to his statement. Wilbur hadn’t been taking things seriously, and Cooper worried that an overload of bad news, lack of food, and the experience of waking up all alone again had seriously fucked up his brain. Currently, Cooper was trying to get his friend to think like a person and not die, which was harder than it sounds. 

He’d managed to get Wilbur to eat and drink something, but that’s about as far as he got. At one point, he tried to talk about Schlatt, and then how he survived for the past few months, then how he was doing mentally, but always got the same response from Wilbur. A disinterested glare and a careful change of subject, more often than not right back to where they’d started. Another minute, another argument.

Wilbur yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “You sure fifty miles can be done? Maybe we should give up.” Cooper grimaced. He swore he saw a hint of a smile on Wilbur’s face, almost as if egging him on. A flash of cunning in his eyes gave it all away.

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Cooper let out a sharp laugh. So that’s what they were doing now, huh? Well, two can play at that game. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ted and Noah stood outside the locked car, watching the body inside for any hint of a movement. Noah’s heart still beat faster than he’d like, but he didn’t have time to break down right now. He knew he’d crash again later, but for now he ran on pure adrenalin and three-month-old beef jerky. 

In his right hand, Ted held a stick of metal, ready to knock Schlatt out as soon as he could. He looked angry, though Noah couldn’t tell what or who he was angry at. The man stood tall and statuesque against the harsh background of the roadside, poised like a video game character in a character selection scene. Months ago, Noah would’ve found it funny. 

All of a sudden, Schlatt’s arm twitched. There was no movement after that for a good minute, the silence tense and unbearable. Then his whole body shuddered and his eyes snapped open. They couldn’t hear him through the car door, but they saw his chest rise and fall as he gasped for breath. He felt around his surroundings with one hand and gripped his shirt with the other, then sat up, grasping at his head and looking… lost. 

If Noah was being honest, he expected more growling and clawing at the window.

Instead, zombie-Schlatt gazed around the car, confusion written all over his face, and tugged at the edges of his shirt. If it wasn’t for the pitch-black eyes and disturbing sharp teeth, Noah couldn’t tell the difference between this Schlatt and the one he’d been friends with for years. 

Schlatt turned to the window, gasping when he saw his friends. He clambered to get closer to the door, causing Ted to take a hesitant step back. Noah tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a quiet nod, which Ted returned, indicating his agreement with their unspoken plan of action. 

Noah stepped towards the car, keys in hand, and unlocked it, pulling the back door open in the process. Schlatt started to make his way out, and narrowly avoided being hit in the head with a stick of metal. 

“Woah, woah, woah! What’s the big idea, huh?” he shouted. Both Ted and Noah paused. Schlatt stepped out of the car, dusting himself off and raising an eyebrow at his friends, who were both keeping their distance and looking less-than-happy to see him.

Ted dared to speak. “What the fuck?” His voice was weak. Schlatt frowned. Noah felt like he was going to have another mental breakdown, but for different reasons this time. 

A hint of realisation crossed Schlatt’s face. “Oh, so the bite  _ did  _ work?” 

He took Ted and Noah’s expressions as a hint to explain what the fuck that meant. “Got bit. Nothing happened. Then it did. Guess I don’t wanna fucking kill anyone yet.” 

Scratching the back of his neck, Noah supposed he should say something. “Uh… how do you feel?” Schlatt shrugged.

“Normal. Hungry. Not like  _ that _ ,” he said with a laugh. He looked like he was about to say something else, but instead turned his head to the side and sniffed the air. Noah frowned, the behaviour reminding him of a bloodhound smelling out its target. Schlatt took a few steps to the right, staring down the endless highway with focussed eyes, seeing something the others couldn’t, then broke into a run. 

By the time they caught up to him, he was leaning on a tree for support as he threw up, the mangled carcass of a deer lying at the side of the road. Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading to the end :) I'm still unsure about how the vibe of this chapter was... but I hope it wasn't too all over the place. How do you feel about where the story is heading so far? Also, don't worry about the guys at Promise Labs, we'll get back to them soon!!!! We're a third of the way through this fic now! Any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated xxx
> 
> Thanks and have a lovely day xx
> 
> \- Ren


	8. I am not a slave, can't be contained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt contemplates. Cooper and Wilbur argue. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh hi!!!! I am deeply conflicted over this chapter. I am completely in love with half of it and hate the other half. It's the longest chapter but I feel like this one has the least things happening. Hopefully you like it and don't think it's bad!! It's another iffy one so here's the warnings!
> 
> WARNINGS: blood and gore, drugs (edibles) and conversation about using a gun

Despite everything, Noah was jealous of Schlatt. They had found a river on their way back to the car, and Schlatt was the only one who could wash in it without risking his safety. The virus could be spread through natural water sources, they’d heard, and they didn’t want to risk it. Therefore, Noah and Ted waited from a distance, picking at the dirt and blood that stuck to their skin. 

After a long twenty minutes, Schlatt returned, wet hair sticking to his forehead. If it wasn’t for his clothes, and oil-black eyes, he’d look like he hadn’t seen a day of the apocalypse in his life. Almost appearing as he did before all of this. Almost, but not quite. The way he walked, the way he spoke, gestured and laughed, it reeked of acting. This unnerved Noah more than the eyes.

Schlatt gave them a weak smile, showing a glimpse of unnaturally sharp teeth, and walked ahead. 

When they started driving again (with Ted at the wheel this time) Noah was determined to not let the car fall into an uncomfortable silence. “So…” he started, “what was that about?” He turned to Schlatt, who sat behind him. The man had been staring out of the window with a bored expression, but now turned to face him.

“What?” He asked, quiet. Noah frowned.

“Uh, you ate roadkill,” he said, running a hand through the tangled mess of his hair. Schlatt’s face paled as he looked at the ground, grimacing. 

“Fuckin’—don’t remind me,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if that would delete the memory of the deer. Noah was no longer jealous of his friend. Now all he could see in the man’s face was fear and self-hatred. 

Noah breathed out a sigh. “Did you know what you were doing?” 

Schlatt’s eyes widened. “No! What kind of question is that?” His words were loud and sharp. Hell, he practically growled it, showing his teeth again. Noah had struck a nerve, and he’d be lying if he didn’t find the reaction scary. He retreated into his seat like a startled rabbit, his brain almost sending him into fight-or-flight mode. But his friend wasn’t a threat, was he?

Noah didn’t miss the flash of regret in Schlatt’s face as he backed away. Eyeing his shaking hands with complete exhaustion, Schlatt slumped over, covering his face. He shouldn’t collapse like this. He always had to be the tough guy. He used to be so strong. Now, though, unsure if he was becoming something less or something more, or perhaps something entirely else, being strong meant nothing but letting his humanity slip further from his grip. There was nothing he could do.

Schlatt gave up. And he cried.

Noah pretended to not notice the tiny sounds of grief coming from his friend. He tried to play it off, tried to close his eyes and ignore it, imagine it as another fake movement. But for once, he knew Schlatt wasn’t acting. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cooper hadn’t expected them to be so slow. Sure, fifty miles is a lot, but they should’ve gotten at least halfway by now. He looked over at Wilbur, who leaned against a tree by the roadside, gripping his side and taking deep, heavy breaths. Not moving for several months while surviving on a diet of cold tinned spaghetti and cereal makes you weaker, apparently, and carrying a guitar while trying to keep up with your healthier friend doesn’t help matters. 

“Ready to go yet?” Cooper asked, calling from the middle of the road. Their collective items were sprawled out in front of him, not much but it should’ve been enough. Now he wasn’t so sure. He counted the bottles of water and groaned, they were both so fucked. 

Wilbur waved a dismissive hand. “Gimme a minute.” Cooper rolled his eyes, it had been like this every half hour for the past day. They’d travelled twenty miles in 18 hours. Pitiful.

He hated himself for it, but he was starting to see Wilbur as too much of a burden to risk waiting for. The man was depressing, pessimistic, on the verge of collapse and a waste of resources. After travelling with Schlatt for so long, competent and honest, it was like trading a yacht for a punctured life raft. 

No, he shouldn’t think like that. Everyone was equally important, no matter what, and this was his  _ friend _ . If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose the only company he had left, then where would he be? He couldn’t bear to leave Wilbur to the mercy of those creatures. 

Cooper shivered as the image of the bite on Schlatt’s arm came into his mind, the blood old and dry. “Why didn’t he tell me?” He asked under his breath. A flood of emotion bubbled against his tongue, but he swallowed it back to his chest, now wasn’t the time.

“What would you have done, if he told you?” Wilbur said, slumped further against the tree. That man had hearing like a bat. Cooper shook his head.

“I don’t know.” The words were clipped and biting, and he cursed himself for coming across as so bitter. He grabbed some supplies and loaded them back into his bag, not daring to look at Wilbur. He heard him break out a short, harsh laugh that made him wince. 

Wilbur lifted himself from the tree. “You’re lying. You know exactly what you’d do. I know ‘cause I’ve been thinking about it too.” He smiled, but it was laced with venom. Cooper stared at the packed bags before him for a quiet moment, then grabbed one and threw it at Wilbur. The force of it knocked the breath out of him, but he laughed again, uncharacteristic energy in his steps as he picked up his guitar and walked down the centre of the road. 

Cooper shouted a harsh sound in frustration. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit about me.” His speech started full of passion but dissolved into nothing by the end. Wilbur gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up without looking at him.

“So you’d kill ‘im then? Bullet between the eyes? Or would you use the knife, I know you hate making noise—”

“Stop.” Cooper cut him off, voice cracking. He felt sick. Wilbur slowed and turned his head to face him, the hint of a cruel smile still sitting on his face. But something in his eyes betrayed sympathy. Oh. Cooper felt like a fool, he sounded like a child throwing a fit. He’d forgotten Schlatt was Wilbur’s friend, too.

Wilbur nodded. “Sorry. You just needed to hear it.” Then he turned back to the road, walking towards the sun as it set over the horizon. 

With a lot to think about, Cooper stayed quiet, watching the grey sky light up with orange and yellow and deep, blood red. The clouds caught golden hues and weaved them into little masterpieces that once incited beauty. The canvas of humanity, gone but not forgotten, inspiring generations of the greatest minds in the world. 

Tonight, they inspired Cooper. And who’s to say that’s not the same thing? He pulled the piece-of-shit skateboard from his backpack, lay it on the rough ground, and let his mind come back to him in waves. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sorry. I’m so messed up right now,” said Schlatt, breaking the silence of the car with tired words. His chest hurt.

Noah turned around, thinking for a second, and speaking. “Understandable. Do you think weed still works on you?” Schlatt shrugged, curious about where the odd question was heading. For the last hour, he’d felt like he was hundreds of miles under the sea, the pressure pushing down on him from every angle, taunting him as he broke. If he  _ could _ get high, he’d like to. 

Giving a faint grin, Noah reached over to the bag on the seat next to Schlatt, grabbing it and pulling it back towards himself. He searched inside the bag for a few moments, then pulled out a clear zip-lock bag with several clumps of what looked like brownies, or at least had been once. 

Schlatt raised a speculative eyebrow. “How old are those?” They didn’t look mouldy, but Schlatt knew from experience that didn’t mean they were safe to eat. Noah laughed.

“Couple of weeks. We found ingredients and cooked em over a fire,” he said. Ted, who had been stoic and silent through the entire journey, nodded, a light smile on his face. For the first time in a while, Schlatt thought about Cooper, and how he always complained about not being able to get high. Stoners always find a way, he supposed.

Smiling, Schlatt held out a hand. “Gimme two.” Noah laughed again, shaking his head.

“Dude, they’re stupid strong… I’m only gonna have half. Two’ll kill you,” he said. Schlatt scoffed. 

“One, then. I’m already dead.” And with that, the deal was done. Ted didn’t take anything, he was driving, and needed to concentrate on the ever-present map, but he watched with amusement as his friends submitted to the drug’s effects. It was nice to see them happy. 

Eventually, both of them passed out. Schlatt first, content with the knowledge that drugs did, in fact, still work on him. Then Noah, who had been on the edge of unconsciousness for a good thirty minutes. Ted let them sleep, knowing they’d be at Promise Laboratories by the time night came. Or they would if his map and his calculations were right.

They were. Ted shook Noah awake. The man looked around in confusion for a beat, then steadied himself to meet his friend’s eyes. Ted smiled.

“We’re here.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were running. In a different situation, Cooper would be glad to be moving faster, but this wasn’t ideal. 

Just as the sun disappeared, they ran into a hoard. Cooper had never seen so many zombies in one place, and he had a good idea why. Several corpses lay at the centre of the hoard, no one they recognised, thank god, being ripped to bloody shreds by the creatures. 

They’d tried to sneak past since the hoard was already occupied. They wanted to get to the end of the road and over the barbed wire fence without alerting a single creature. This didn’t work out. 

Now, zombies are slow, but in numbers, they’re still hard to outrun. It was Wilbur that drew their attention, making a sudden sprint for the fence and leaving Cooper in the dust. He saw the man jump the fence and then look back, cursing loudly when he saw Cooper hadn’t followed him. Cooper raised his middle finger at him, then broke into a run himself.

He hadn’t expected the creatures to come at him from the side. They emerged from nowhere, reaching for him with clawed hands. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he just about dodged a zombie’s jaws. Wilbur was shouting at him, but he had no idea what he was saying. All that mattered to him now was the sound of his feet hitting the ground in a heavy, hammering rhythm, and the little breath he had left filling his lungs.

The fence was metres away now, and getting closer by the second. The creatures were still right behind him, he could smell their rotting bodies shuffling closer, but he could make it. He knew he could make it. 

He grabbed the top of the fence, trying his best to avoid the barbs that covered it, and launched himself over the top. Wilbur stood on the other side, watching with panicked eyes. Cooper almost thought he’d gotten away.

Then he felt it, a strong metal barb lodged deep in his right leg, near his ankle, trapping him against the fence. Collapsing to the ground with a thud, he desperately tried to reach for the tangled metal. He had to get out. Moving sent shocks of pain through his body, and he screamed as his leg spasmed. Tears stung in his eyes as he caught sight of the blood on his jeans. He could hear the groaning creatures getting closer. 

Looking up at Wilbur, eyes begging for help, he felt himself start to slip into darkness. No, no, no. He had to stay awake. Fire coursed through his leg as he felt Wilbur’s hands grabbing his shoulders. The man leaned closer, digging his heels into the ground and bracing himself for something. Cooper couldn’t breathe.

Wilbur took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Cooper’s arms. “Okay. This is gonna hurt.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear in mind that I have no clue what I'm doing and this chapter was a bit of a nightmare. God is frowning upon me. I hope y'all enjoyed whatever this was, I promise the next chapter will move the story on a bit more!! Hope you didn't mind 2000 words of filler/angst. 
> 
> Also, this fic was originally supposed to be mainly Schlatt and Wilbur's point of view, but the POV I've enjoyed writing the most has been Cooper (and Wilbur, but he's a mess at the moment so it's hard to write him) and Noah. They're also the ones who I think are most ooc though. I've enjoyed the little glimpses of Schlatt's POV so far but I haven't planned many scenes of his POV :( I am big stupid. Also I promise I haven't forgotten about the Promise Labs guys uhhhh they're simply vibing right now.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading :) have a great day! xx
> 
> \- Ren


	9. So pick me from the dark and pull me from the grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooper and Wilbur try their best. Ted, Noah and Schlatt reach Promise Labs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuugh I am NOT happy with a lot of this chapter. But I tried to edit it to make it less bad. A bunch of stuff feels really monotone and dry to me... but maybe it's better than I think? Oh well, hope you enjoy it anyway. It's shorter than the past few chapters but it's still got some stuff happening in it. Also, I'm pretty sure there are some errors, so if you spot one let me know! 
> 
> This one needs warnings, too, but you knew this by now.
> 
> WARNINGS: injury, blood, needles (like sewing needles), depressing thoughts

Wilbur spent the next thirty minutes apologizing, but Cooper’s mind was so faded he didn’t catch a word of it. He’d been dragged to a safe distance from the fence, and Wilbur had checked the surroundings for zombies. Now he just had to stop Cooper from bleeding out.

He screamed for a good ten minutes; the pain ripping through his leg like fire as Wilbur struggled to clean and dress the wound with what little supplies they possessed. After that, he resigned himself to quiet sobs and the occasional curse. He got louder again when the shock and adrenaline dissolved.

When Wilbur pulled out the needle and thread, he tried to shut his brain off. This didn’t work. He choked down a cry as his leg twitched, causing Wilbur to stab him with the needle. A firm hand held it down from then on. He blacked out.

Once he felt the pant-leg being rolled back over the bandages, Cooper opened his eyes and mustered up the strength to look over at Wilbur, who was standing a few metres away, wearing an expression he couldn’t recognise. He made a noise, catching his friend’s attention.

“We’re not gonna make it,” he said, shuddering at the sound of his own broken voice. A horrible dark weight of despair crushed his chest. Once he said it, it felt much more true. Wilbur shook his head, taking a step towards him.

“No, no. We are.” He got closer and held out a hand. Cooper grabbed it, wincing as he was pulled up, immediately collapsing onto Wilbur’s shoulder. He didn’t dare to put any weight on his right leg, the pain already taking up a prominent portion of his thoughts. Instead, he dug his fingers into his friend’s arm, attempting to take a step forward. Wilbur put a steadying arm around him, moving slightly to catch him as he almost fell. He panicked for a second, gripping Wilbur’s shirt and swearing, but closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

He thought about when he was fifteen and broke his leg at the skate park. He’d attempted a new trick he saw online and ended up eating shit. But despite the pain and the embarrassment, he got up, he found a friend, and they found help. If he walked then, he could walk now.

Taking a deep breath, Cooper put his foot to the floor. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ted drove towards the huge iron gates of the building. A huge sign reading ‘Promise Laboratories’ hung over the entrance, and two armed guards stood at either side of the road. This was the place. 

Noah and Schlatt were wide awake now, looking apprehensive. Ted supposed that made sense, the place seemed less-than-friendly, but it was their only chance at safety and something to help Schlatt. He drove up to the guards. 

A tall figure wearing a surgical mask tapped on Ted’s window, which he rolled down. He put a casual smile on his face to seem nonthreatening. He wasn’t sure if that worked.

“Uh, we heard the radio signal,” he said, trying to find the eyes of the guard underneath all the safety equipment they wore. The guard nodded slowly, then held some kind of scanner to Ted’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second guard doing the same to Noah. The scanner beeped and the guard nodded again, moving away from the window. Ted heard a similar beep from Noah’s side of the car. 

They didn’t even bother scanning Schlatt. They took one look at him and started shaking their heads. One guard knocked on the car door, muttering something to the other. Schlatt glared at them, hesitant to roll down the window. Watching through the rear-view mirror, Ted panicked. These guys had guns, and they looked content with using them.

Ted turned to Noah, who gave a subtle nod. He leant his head out of the window. “What’s wrong?” A guard turned to him, true expression hidden, but body language betraying a sense of… excitement?

The guard held up a hand. “We’ve seen nothing like this before.” Their voice had a deep, muffled sound to it. “Your friend must come with us to the lab, we need to test the cure.” This irked Ted. His friend wasn’t a test subject. He turned to Schlatt, whose face was neutral. 

“I can turn us around. You don’t have to go with them,” Ted whispered. He glanced at the gun in one of the guard’s hands, finger twitching towards the trigger. Whatever they were going to do, they had to do it fast. Schlatt met his eyes for a moment, the new moonlight reflecting in those dark pools like white irises. He nodded, a promise or a goodbye, Ted couldn’t tell, and returned to the door. 

With one last look at his friends, Schlatt opened the door, and walked out. The closer guard gripped his shoulder, causing him to flinch, and guided him towards a door to the left of the gate. Ted watched, helpless and anxious, as his friend disappeared into the building. 

The remaining guard, the one who had spoken, turned to them, nodded, and walked towards a little booth at the side of the gate. They pressed a button and the metal doors opened, a light flashing green. Ted clutched the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white and drove ahead. 

Promise Laboratories. This better be worth it. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d been walking for five hours when they saw it. At first, Cooper was convinced it was the Lab. Then, he realised how impossible that was. At their current speed, making to the lab in such little time would mean someone lied to them about the distance. No, this wasn’t the building they were looking for. 

In the distance, a large white building shone in the dark. Cooper squinted, trying to make out the red letters at the roof of the structure. Wilbur, who had all but collapsed since they started their journey, spared him the effort.

“Alpine Mall. Let’s sit down,” he said. Cooper groaned but nodded, falling to the floor with as much grace as a bag of flour. As soon as he dropped, Wilbur followed, rubbing his arm where his friend had been grabbing it. He threw his bag to the ground along with Cooper’s backpack, which he’d been carrying too, and fished out two bottles of water.

He frowned. “Last ones.” Handing one bottle to Cooper, he offered a weak smile. Cooper returned it, out of pity. With his fucked-up leg and Wilbur’s lack of energy, on top of their dwindling resources, there was no way they’d make it to their friends. He’d come to accept this, but that didn’t mean it was okay. 

He looked down at his leg. “Wil, we’re gonna die.” The words came out in the form of a whisper, but it seemed loud in the silence of the highway. The edges of the road were surrounded by trees, and the sky hung over them like an inky abyss. Wilbur sighed, opening his water bottle.

“Maybe. We need to try, though,” he said. Cooper rolled his eyes, resting his unopened water bottle on his left leg.

He gestured to the guitar on Wilbur’s back. “You don’t get it, you still have something to hold on to.” He’d been dragging the damn instrument along since they left his hotel room, never dropping it, never taking it off his back. Cooper had tried to get him to leave it behind in the early stages, knowing it only added to the weight the frail man had to carry. A quick, piercing remark stopped the conversation dead. He didn’t bring it up again.

Wilbur held Cooper’s shoulder. “You do, too.” Cooper scoffed.

“Like what? Like my friends who we’ll never reach? Like my life which is almost over? Or, fuck, what about the skateboard I might never be able to use again?” He let out a bitter laugh. His leg moved and he cursed, the wound stinging as he reached over to check it. Wilbur took a sip from his water bottle and gave his friend an unreadable look.

“It’s okay,” he said, moving to roll Cooper’s pant leg up. Dark bloodstains had seeped through the bandages. He winced as Wilbur unwrapped the cloth, revealing the neatly sewn gash on his lower leg.

“It’s fucking not.” Cooper let out a small noise as Wilbur applied some sort of disinfectant to his wound.

Wilbur shook his head, a smile resting on his face. “No, you’re feelings. They’re okay. Everything’s shit.” He grabbed some fresh bandages from his bag and used Cooper’s knife to cut them. As he wrapped the cloth back around the injury, Cooper grit his teeth. Little jabs of pain shot through his bones each time Wilbur pulled the fabric tighter.

“You’re not helping,” he spat as his friend finished up the task. Wilbur shrugged and resumed his position sitting next to Cooper.

He pointed to the horizon. “See that Mall over there?” he asked, the word ‘mall’ sounding foreign in his accent, “we’re gonna make it to there, then you can give up. Deal?” Cooper was about to decline, he’d rather just curl up and die. The Mall looked so far away, which meant more walking, and more stopping. But he saw a sliver of hope in Wilbur’s eyes.

He sighed.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah. That's a thing. If you enjoyed don't forget to drop me a comment :) things are gonna pop off next chapter I think so stick around for that! Thanks for reading and have a great day xxx
> 
> \- Ren


	10. I still feel alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Cooper go to the Mall. Travis, Charlie, and Carson get a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway through! I really really liked writing this chapter, and I'm super proud of a few specific parts. Honestly writing this one was so cathartic for some reason. Also, this is the longest chapter so far, at over 2100 words! I hope you all enjoy this one <3
> 
> WARNINGS: injury, depressing/existential thoughts, this one is also very angsty at the start

They stopped twice before reaching the Mall. Both times, Cooper wanted to just lay down and die. By the time they arrived at their destination, he was biting back cries, flashes of pain shooting up his leg every time he put his weight on it. He wasn’t stupid; he knew it was getting worse, and even if the wound wasn’t infected, he’d slowed their progress so far that it’d take days to get to Promise Labs, and they didn’t have enough resources to last that long.

But he couldn’t let Wilbur know that. He didn’t tell his friend he’d be better off leaving him and making his own way to salvation. Because he was scared. He’d never been more scared in his life. It was a fear which sat in his chest like a stone. When he was travelling with Schlatt, it didn’t bother him; it was more of an abstract concept. Now, he felt it all the time, simple but terrifying, the one thing that still made him feel sick. 

He didn’t want to die alone. 

The Mall irked him in a way he’d never experienced. The white, shining walls, the empty, huge expanses, the overgrown palm trees, untouched since the day it was abandoned. Something didn’t sit right with him. He wasn’t sure if it was the consuming void of the desolate food court or the sad nostalgia of an uninhabited skate shop, or the meaningless adverts covering the walls, but it struck something deep at his core. He felt Wilbur shiver and felt glad he wasn’t the only one. 

Two columns stood tall and proud inside the entrance, catching moonlight flooding through from the glass ceiling. Wilbur guided Cooper over to one and let him collapse against it. He crumpled down, hands flat on the cold, marble floor.

“Still want to give up?” Wilbur asked, throwing the bags, his guitar, and the baseball bat to the ground. Cooper had forgotten they kept that. The clattering noise of wood on stone echoed through the building, reminding him of the complete isolation they faced.

Cooper stared at the black bloodstains on the bat. “Yeah.” The answer caught up to him after he said it, and he realised why he didn’t like the Mall. 

Wilbur sighed, picking up the knife which used to belong to Cooper. “Wait there, I need to check the perimeter.” Cooper didn’t respond, looking at nothing and ignoring the sting of his leg. He heard Wilbur’s footsteps get fainter as the man walked away, and let his eyes fall shut, pulling himself into a dreamless sleep.

It was still nighttime when Wilbur woke him. He looked up at his friend with a sour expression, but Wilbur didn’t seem to care. He looked excited.

“Get up and come with me,” he said, holding out a hand. Cooper hesitated, but grabbed it, gritting his teeth as he pulled himself up. He was quick to grab Wilbur’s shoulder, lifting the weight from his leg but failing to ease the pain. It was then that Cooper noticed Wilbur carrying the baseball bat in his free hand. 

Wilbur led him towards the food court, where a strange scene lay before them. Random objects were piled in the centre of the space, with a cardboard box sitting next to said pile. On top of the box, an ornate china lamp stood with a sophisticated air that didn’t match its surroundings. Wilbur let Cooper go with gentle movements, making sure he wouldn’t fall, and stood in front of him, holding out the bat.

Cooper raised an eyebrow and took the bat. “Why?” Wilbur smiled, shrugging his shoulders and helping him move closer to the lamp-on-a-box. The bat felt too heavy. Wilbur moved out of the way and Cooper stared at his hands, thinking Schlatt would enjoy this more than him. He gripped the bat tighter, leaning on his bad leg.

He made a choice. 

As the bat made contact with the lamp, a thousand thoughts flickered inside his mind. Schlatt could be dead. Everyone’s dead. It’s just him and Wilbur. They’re the only ones left. If they are, they’ll die soon, then it’s all over. But what does it matter? What’s his place in the universe, anyway? What’s the point of surviving, when you’re so insignificant? What’s the point?

The lamp smashed into a million pieces, shattered porcelain spraying across the floor. Some shards hit his hands, and his face, drawing blood as they flew by, but he didn’t care. He hit the lamp again, and again, and didn’t notice the screams coming from his mouth. Something in his mind switched off, and he rode a wave of grim satisfaction as the perfect object became a mess of bloodied parts. 

Static filled his mind as he leant back to take another swing, but a shot of burning pain raced through him. His knee buckled and he dropped the bat. Then he collapsed, head pounding and body on fire. He sobbed, voice hoarse and more broken than ever, pulse deafening and hands shaking as they touched the ice-cold floor. Every thought was gone from his mind, both horrifying and brilliant.

At some point, he started laughing. That was the beginning of the come-down. As his breaths steadied, he lay on his back amongst the shards, staring up beyond the ceiling, imagining galaxies far away from here. Somewhere, Wilbur was laughing, too, the gentle notes of a guitar fading into the background with him. Cooper felt a rush of euphoria overcome him, his pain forgotten in the embrace of clarity.

This is it. This is the point. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Travis was tired. If you asked him, he’d tell you he’s fine, through the form of a sticky note or notepad, but he wasn’t. He was tired of a lot of things: the way Charlie never told the truth, or how Carson wouldn’t meet his eyes, or the medics, who watched their every move and never said a word. 

Mostly, though, he was tired of the food. At least that’s what he told himself. Who eats the same thing every day? Prisoners, that’s who.

He didn’t speak, but he thought a lot, and only some of those thoughts made it to paper. When Carson brought up the others during lunch, he’d had a lot of thoughts, but he didn’t want to write them all down and it involved being far too honest so he left the room instead. 

Now, two days later, that conversation was behind them, and Travis was happy to not bring it up again, so he didn’t. Tonight was game night, and they were playing monopoly because there was nothing better to play. It had turned into a weekly tradition, to boost the trio’s morale or something like that. Charlie had been the one to suggest it, surprising nobody, but Carson only agreed because Travis did. 

Just as he passed GO, the radio went off. They were required to carry one at all times, in case the medics needed to talk to them, but it hadn’t gone off before. Carson picked it up, putting it closer to his face.

“Uh, yeah?” he said, putting down his monopoly money. Travis and Charlie listened with similar curious expressions. 

The radio buzzed. “Two survivors have arrived. You need to come down to the entrance and greet them—show them the ropes, you know?” The voice crackled in a low tone, which Travis recognised as one of the gate guards. He tensed up hearing the voice, the soulless, masked face of the guard coming into his mind. 

Carson brought the radio to his mouth with trembling hands. “Okay, we’ll be down in a minute.”

The three of them shared a look of both excitement and worry. New people meant new connections and fresh hope for humanity, but what if they were  _ bad _ people? 

Charlie was the first to get up, a confident smile on his face. Travis saw a little fear behind his eyes. He’d gotten good at reading people, turns out you learn a lot when you don’t speak. He followed his friend’s actions, helping Carson up.

They made their way through twisting corridors lined with metal doors. Some were empty rooms, some were bedrooms for themselves and the medics, some… they weren’t sure about. With each corner they turned, Travis felt more anxiety building in his chest and throat. He desperately wanted to say something, but he couldn’t, not now. 

As they reached the entrance hall, Travis closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt Charlie grab his shoulder and looked up at his friend, who gave him a reassuring smile. Travis knew this one was genuine. Carson took the lead as they turned the final corner, ready to meet whoever was waiting for them just past the wall. 

Travis was so busy watching the ground that he walked right into Carson, who didn’t move an inch. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’, wondering why the man had stopped. Then he looked up.

“T—Ted? Noah?” Charlie said, stealing the words from Travis’ head. Stood by the main doors were their friends, looking concerned and lost and like themselves but oh, so different. Noah snapped his head towards the sound and his eyes widened, making him look like a startled deer. Ted was later to react, turning to them and gaping for a second before breaking into a shocked smile.

Noah laughed. “Holy shit!” Charlie ran to him and tackled him with a hug, almost knocking the guy over. Ted started laughing, too, as Travis dragged Carson towards him.

Soon the room was filled with laughter as the friends reunited, thoughts of the apocalypse forgotten in favour of age-old inside jokes and emotional hugs. Carson snapped out of his shocked state and smiled, and maybe cried a bit, but no one pointed it out. 

Good things all come to an end, though, and Noah wore a more serious expression once their initial celebrations were over. 

“Listen,” he started, drawing everyone’s attention, “when we were on the road, we found people.” Travis looked at him, worried about where this was going. He pulled a little notebook and pen from his jean pocket and scribbled a question mark. When he showed Noah, the man frowned.

“We found Cooper,” he said, treading with care. Travis drew several exclamation marks on his paper, hands shaking. 

Noah sighed. “We found Cooper and Schlatt… and we didn’t see him but Wilbur was with them, too. But… there was a problem.” Charlie held Travis’ shoulder again, but this time it wasn’t just to comfort him. Carson had a similar reaction, taking a tiny step back as his legs almost gave out. Travis stood still, for once, and continued to listen.

Ted nodded to Noah and took over the story. “When we found them, Schlatt, uh, he’d been bitten.” The air felt dead around the group. Ted shook his head.

“I think—I think he’d been hiding it for a long time. We heard this place had a cure, so we took him with us. He was passed out, but he woke up while we were driving here.” He ran a hand through his hair, longer than before and a lot less clean. Travis had forgotten about the water struggles of the outside world.

Ted hummed through his teeth. “When he woke up, he was just… normal. Or, not normal, but not a—a creature. So we brought him here. He’s with the medics right now, I guess.” Travis saw Carson tense up at the mention of the medics, but he was glad their friend was alive. Now, he had questions. 

In a frantic struggle, he wrote  _ ‘Coopr + Wil??’  _ on his notepad. He showed Ted, who glanced at Noah with a guilty expression. Obviously, Travis was eager to know where one of his closest friends was, but he cared about Wilbur, too. They all did. Despite not knowing the guy that well, he had a way of sticking in their minds. Travis remembered his smile most of all.

Noah grimaced. “We had to leave them behind. They have the coordinates but they’ll be another day, at least, on foot.” He looked away. Ted’s hand reached for something that wasn’t there. It was subtle, but Travis noticed. He wondered if they’d had any weapons before they got here. When Carson, Charlie, and himself arrived, their limited weapons were taken from them for ‘disinfecting’. They were never given back, but Travis understood that, this was a place for medical research, not fighting.

“So you don’t know if they’re okay?” Charlie said, breaking Travis’ train of thought. Noah shook his head and a silence fell over the group. No one knew what to say. The group was so close to being back together, but the missing pieces were now more obvious than ever.

They couldn’t ignore it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The Promise Labs boys are back!!! AND we get Travis' POV!!!! Poggers!!
> 
> So, we're halfway through the fic. I thought I'd try to get some specific feedback from you all :) If you want to leave a normal comment that's cool, but if you have time/energy please help me out by answering some of these questions (you don't have to do all of them, just whatever you feel like!) (also i stole this idea hehe)
> 
> \- what have you enjoyed most about this fic so far (scene, moment, style, 'character' or theme etc)?  
> \- what would you like to see more of?  
> \- what do you think worked the best in terms of drawing you into the story?  
> \- how have the chapter lengths been?  
> \- what do you think about the unusual 'teams' (e.g Cooper and Wilbur)?  
> \- what do you think about the characterisation (is it believable/accurate to the people/scenarios I'm trying to portray)?   
> \- if I were to write another lunch club fic after this one, what sort of story/au would you like to see?  
> \- anything else you want to add? :)
> 
> anyway that's all for now folks, thanks for reading and have a fabulous day!! xxx
> 
> \- Ren


	11. When it’s hopeless, I start to notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooper and Wilbur set off again. Schlatt wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so conflicted about this chapter. I think the start is good but idk about the rest??? Basically it does what it says on the tin. Eh? Hope you like it, sorry it's late! Also, this wasn't checked before I posted so if you see any mistakes then let me know :)
> 
> WARNINGS: needles (medical), injury, fever, hospitals

They were leaving the Mall. With half a bottle of water and a decent amount of food (stolen from the food court), Wilbur said they might have a chance of making it to the Labs. Equipped with the bat, a new source of comfort and a reminder of what he was here for, Cooper agreed. In fact, he led the way, his wound forgotten in the wake of last night’s breakthrough. 

Some small sense of hope had settled into his chest. After Cooper’s meltdown, Will bandaged his hands and let him hit more things until he got tired. But he didn’t get tired. Kinetic energy still buzzed inside his veins, the aftermath of pure emotion mixed with the meaningless destruction of useless items running through him like battery acid.

Cooper smiled as he approached the Mall doors and took a step outside. Dry dirt crunched under his shoe, the sound startling some nearby sparrows, who shot up into the sky in a cloud. They looked free.

A weight lifted from his shoulders, the fresh air hit his face, and for the first time in days, he realised he wanted to keep going. He wanted to keep  _ living _ . As the thought came to sit in his mind, he choked out something between a laugh and a sob. 

“Hey, you okay?” Wilbur called from behind him. Cooper nodded wiping tears from his face with his sleeve. 

“Yeah. Just realised I don’t wanna die,” he said. The sky above them was grey, and they couldn’t see the sun, but he thought it was beautiful, anyway. 

He remembered the feeling he had several nights ago, watching the sunset as he skated down the never-ending highway, Wilbur cracking a smile for once as he failed at jumps and imitated bird calls. He remembered being the optimistic one, the one who saw beauty in the world. 

Then he fucked up and suddenly he couldn’t be that person anymore. Hell, he could barely be a person. Wilbur took the wheel, guiding him, physically and mentally, forgetting his own struggle, and showing him a reason to carry on.

His life changed in so little time, and maybe he’d never be as free or as happy as those nights. Maybe he’d never skate again, maybe he’d never feel the cathartic thrill of smashing things up in an abandoned Mall. But knowing he could do something else, even a slight chance he’d feel so strongly tomorrow, or the next day, or next month, or in a year. If he would experience just one new day. 

That’s what drove him forward. 

Wilbur smiled and held his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts. “Oh, good, ‘cause we’ve got twenty miles to cover.” And with that, the immersion broke. The reality came crashing down around him. Emotions and willpower were one thing, raw survival was another. 

His leg hurt. God, it hurt. Of course it did. Even when he thought he’d figured it all out, he couldn’t help being a burden. Wilbur didn’t seem to mind, taking the weight on his arm as he crumpled onto it, but he knew it was all a mask. He understood because he felt the same way. Days ago, when their roles were reversed.

Or, Will was a better person than him. Perhaps he didn’t care, it’s not like Cooper could do anything about the situation. Wilbur turned to him, the light of day shining in his tired eyes as he flashed a warm smile. Cooper forced a smile back, blocking the spiralling thoughts from his mind.

“Let’s go.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Schlatt woke up, but he didn’t remember falling asleep. That’s how it had been for a few days, now. And ‘waking up’ wasn’t the best way to describe it. It was closer to floating in a void of darkness, then a void of light, and back again, over and over. Sometimes he felt his limbs, and his body, hyper-aware of every hair on his arm or every pore on his face. Other times, he didn’t. 

The passage of time meant nothing to him, floating in this emptiness. At the back of his mind, he knew the white space was some hospital or lab. He preferred hospital. But when he felt the needles go into his arm, it only made him more aware that no one cared about his preferences. 

It hadn’t been  _ painful _ , not in most cases, but his autonomy had been taken away, and he didn’t even know when it happened. He scoured his memory for something solid, and all he found was a huge metal door and a rough hand on his shoulder. 

People were talking, somewhere nearby, their voices muffled. Schlatt struggled against whatever force locked him out of his body, to no avail. In the white space around him, darker shapes formed, blurred edges moving too fast for him to focus. He tried to make a sound, but nothing came out. 

A hand gripped his arm, pushing it down onto a soft surface and holding it still. As soon as this happened, he felt his body come back to him and he thrashed against the force with the little strength he had left. 

More hands joined the first to hold him down, the shadows in his vision turning into figures. They battled his movements, and he saw something metal shine near his face. He jolted and for a second he freed an arm from the hands. Lashing out, he scratched a figure, his nails breaking the skin. The scream from the form as they fell back gave him a rush of satisfaction. 

His victory was short-lived, though. Another set of hands held him again, stronger and more serious than before. His mind and heart raced, strength faltering. The metal object came closer to his right arm. He closed his eyes and gave one last struggle as whatever it was pierced his skin.

He screamed. A gunshot rang out, but it wasn’t aimed at him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He should’ve paid attention to Cooper’s leg. It took a day, that’s all, and now look at them. He thought it would get better. He thought his friend would tell him if something was wrong. He thought they were past this. 

Wilbur sighed and looked over at Cooper, who lay against a tree. He had a fever, and his leg was infected. He’d taken a first-aid course a few years ago, so he knew how fast these things could kill. But his friend didn’t care, and that’s where the problem sat.

“Get up. If we get to the labs—”

“No, no. I just need to sleep, dude.” Cooper cut him off with a wave of his hand. He looked like shit, overheating and shivering, leg stretched out on the ground, jeans rolled up to show the bloodied bandage. Wilbur should’ve checked. 

They’d run out of water, but there was a river a short walk away. Wilbur knew that if his friend didn’t drink anything, he’d die before they could even attempt to walk the last five miles. He also knew that the river water could be infected. 

They were so close. 

“Listen. I’m willing to risk it,” Wilbur said, trying to meet Cooper’s eyes. They betrayed a sense of hopelessness and delirium. 

Cooper shook his head. “Can’t turn into one of those things.” His speech slurred, but his thoughts were logical. Wilbur groaned, sitting on the floor with a sour expression on his face. He wished there were more zombies to run away from, and less existential introspection on what makes someone human. 

He ran a hand through the grass. “If you turn, I’ll kill you.” It was a whispered promise. Regret filled his mind as the words fell on stagnant air, but Cooper gave him a look which pierced his soul.

“Okay,” he said, voice weak. They sat in silence for a minute, looking at the floor and listening to evening birdsong. Eventually, Wilbur nodded and stood up, dragging his satchel with him. Neither of them said a word as he left.

When he returned, Cooper looked worse than ever. He’d been crying, and more blood had appeared on his leg. Wilbur handed him a bottle full of river water, grimacing. The water looked clean, but they both knew the invisible danger that could float within. 

Cooper reached pulled out his gun and handed it to Wilbur. With a quiet nod, Will took the weapon and stood back. Cooper gave him a faint smile as he unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and stared into the contents. 

Wilbur could see the words ‘fuck it’ written on his friend’s face before he drank half of the bottle in one go. He then gasped for breath and screwed the cap back on the bottle.

“So… feel any different?” Wilbur asked, the cold metal of the gun unwelcome in his hand. Cooper shrugged.

“Nope.” A beat of quiet passed.

Wilbur chuckled. “That was a lot of dramatics for nothing, wasn’t it?” Of course the water wasn’t infected. He wished he had a worldwide communication device so he could let everyone else know that. They could very well be the only people on the planet with this knowledge.

Cooper smiled, feeling refreshed. “Yep.” He stood up (with help from Wilbur) and laughed. His leg stung, but determination held its place in his mind. Five miles to go. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhhhow was that?? If you liked it or hated it, drop a comment down below :) Sorry for the messy angsty rubbish haha... thanks for reading and have a great day :)
> 
> \- Ren


	12. And I still feel alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah contemplates. Carson is sick and tired of all this bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing this for three days and I hate it. I didn't edit it at all because I am god's mistake. ??? enjoy ???
> 
> WARNINGS: injury, sickness

For the past few days, Noah had stayed as close to his friends as he could. This didn’t mean things were the same.

After the initial shock of seeing them alive, he tried to catch up with them and find out more about their apocalypse stories, but they told him nothing. He supposed he understood, there were things he didn’t want them to know, too. Phantom feelings of cold metal and black blood under his fingers, the screams of the dead in his nightmares, he wouldn’t tell them those things. They were all in the same boat, but he couldn’t help feeling disconnected from the group.

He envied Ted, so delicately falling back into their old routine, acting as a chaotic figure yet holding strength and competence. Most importantly, he made them laugh. Noah had a suspicion they hadn’t laughed in a long time.

His friends were different, and not in a normal way, either. Not like Ted, able to shift from fun and carefree to cold and analytical in a second. Not like himself, changed for the worse by the fucked-up world around him. Not like when he saw Cooper, a fleeting glimpse of a tired, broken mess. They weren’t like that, because they weren’t being honest.

Charlie unnerved him the most, such a good actor (almost as good as Schlatt, but he tried not to think about it) with an easy persona to uphold. He joked, he smiled, he lied. Noah saw it in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if the others saw it too. If they did, they respected the man enough to keep quiet.

He guessed who would be the most affected, and he was right. Carson put on a brave face for the rest of the group, laughing along and pitching in, but when he thought no one was looking, Noah saw the way he sighed and screwed his eyes shut and mumbled something to himself under his breath. His friend looked tired. He hoped the guy got enough sleep.

Travis didn’t talk. Noah found this out immediately. The only thing Travis hid was why. He tried to read his friend’s face, tried to figure out what he was writing before he showed it, tried to coax information from him, but he got nothing. Noah thought Travis’ eyes looked sad, even when he was happy.

Everything had changed.

“It’ll be nice to have everyone back,” Charlie said over lunch. Noah nodded, his mind somewhere else as he stared at Travis’ notepad. He was making a poor attempt at reading what his friend was scribbling down onto the book. How many of those does he go through?

Carson shifted, giving Charlie a look. “Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it.” A medic in a bright white coat stood at the door to the cafeteria, watching with intense eyes. Noah shivered. Why did they have to guard every door? This wasn’t a prison.

Travis placed his pen down with care, and Noah raised an eyebrow, waiting for the notebook to be handed to him. This didn’t happen. Instead, Travis stood up, causing the rest of their friends to stop their conversations and look at him. He walked over to the medic and showed them the notebook, tapping it with his finger to get the stoic figure’s attention.

After a long, emotionless silence, the medic shook their head. “No visitors are allowed in the labs.” The word ‘labs’ stuck in Noah’s mind. He knew what the question was about. They’d all been avoiding it, but not anymore. They wanted to see Schlatt.

He was about to speak up when Carson cleared his throat, standing. “Why the hell not?” The words were hostile and biting, sounding foreign coming from the exhausted man. “Why can’t we see our fucking _friend_? Did the cure fail? What are you doing to him?” Tension clouded the group as they watched the scene wordlessly. Carson took a deep breath, running a shaky hand through his hair. Noah didn’t even notice Ted stand up.

“Carson. Calm down,” he said in a voice Noah recognised all too well. The voice he’d use whenever he wanted Noah to listen, and to think about whatever he was doing wrong. It didn’t seem to have the same effect on Carson.

“No! I—I won’t! I’ll fucking fight if I have to. We’re all thinking the same thing—”

The crackle of his radio cut him off. “Hello?” Carson picked up the radio without breaking eye contact with the medic. Noah had never seen his friend so angry. He hoped he’d never have to see it again.

Carson pushed down a button on the radio. “This is Carson, what is it?” His voice changed in an instant, from deadly to calm. If Noah couldn’t see him, he’d think everything was fine. Another actor, another role. He felt sick.

“Two survivors have arrived. Come to the front,” the radio voice buzzed. Noah shared a look with the rest of his friends. Carson raised an eyebrow at the medic guarding the door, a dangerous fire burning in his eyes as he stared the figure down. The medic’s shoulders slumped a little, but their face remained unchanged when they moved out of the way. With a hint of a smile, Carson gestured for the group to follow him.

He brought the radio to his face. “We’ll be right down.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They stood in the foyer, waiting for someone to show up. Cooper winced as he tried to move, resting his weight on Wilbur’s shoulder. He wanted to feel some sort of satisfaction for actually making it to Promise Labs, but the pain in his leg occupied all the space in his head.

Wilbur’s mind was also somewhere else, but for different reasons. When they’d arrived the guards at the gate told them all the belongings they carried had to be taken away for ‘sanitisation’. This included his guitar. He’d put up a fight for it, of course, but in the end he couldn’t argue with a gun pointed at his face. His crutch was gone, just like that.

Cooper hoped to god this place wasn’t a scam. After walking five miles, the infection in his wound and the fever that came with it were catching up with him. It came in waves, the pain fading for a minute before starting again, stronger and more nauseating. If he tried hard enough, he could pretend he was high, blotches of colour blurring his vision and nonexistent sounds echoing in his ears.

But he wasn’t high. He was fucking dying.

In his dazed state, he felt Wilbur shift in a sudden step back. He said something, but Cooper couldn’t hear it. He looked in the same direction as his friend, trying to make out the figures at the end of the room. There were too many of them. One figure was coming towards him at the speed of a freight train. Oh. OH.

“Trav?” He mumbled before being pulled into a tight hug. His vision started spinning as he wrapped his arms around his friend. He was speaking, but whatever he said was too quiet and too muffled for Cooper to decode.

He moved a little, feeling faint. “‘M gonna throw up, dude.” He didn’t know if he was lying or not, but he definitely felt sick. Travis let him go but held out an arm for him to lean on. Cooper smiled, the situation catching up to him as he saw the other figures getting closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wilbur hugging someone, but he couldn’t determine who.

Then all of a sudden, Travis’ support wasn’t enough. Cooper collapsed, shots of ice ripping through his veins as he gripped his leg, curling up into a ball. The sound he made was pathetic, but it alerted everyone around him. Travis dropped to his level, a concerned expression clear as day on his face. Someone else was shouting when he fell onto his back, head hitting the cold ground.

His vision started to give up on him. Flashes of white appeared and he felt someone grab his arm. He made another noise, or he tried to. Someone held his shoulder and a voice near his ear told him everything was gonna be alright. A needle broke the skin of his arm, cold and sharp.

He passed out on his own before the anaesthetic entered his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brain going wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr  
> if you enjoyed drop me a comment so I know it's not all bad. Uh... what do I normally say at the end of these things??  
> Oh yeah, thanks for reading and have a great day xoxo
> 
> \- Ren


	13. Falling forward, back into orbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur processes. The medics get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry this chapter took forever to come out, I've been busy with schoolwork and also rewatching every smplive video. Hopefully you'll like this one, though! Sorry it's kinda short D:
> 
> WARNINGS: hospitals, injections, gun mention

Wilbur didn’t want them to take Cooper away, much like he didn’t want them to take his guitar away. Here, he put up a fight, trying to reason with the white-coated medics taking his friend. But someone—Ted, he thinks—held him back. Something in his mind told him this was the right thing to do, Cooper needed medical attention, he could die. And yet… seeing the soulless figures carrying his friend further and further from his reach? It set the heavy hand of dread in his heart.

At least Cooper was still breathing. 

When they were gone, the foyer stayed quiet for a long time. Wilbur had fallen to the floor in his struggle, next to Travis, who trembled in a way that went unnoticed by everyone except him. The taste of acid stung his throat, and stayed there, sitting on his tongue like a threat, as he processed everything. It was like the final thread had been cut, and the woollen wall protecting him was gone. No one could hold him up, now.

“I—what the hell happened to him?” a small voice asked from behind him. He recognised it as Charlie, impressive considering he sounded nothing like he used to. Wilbur stared at the ground, trying to form words as his brain raced around the things he’d been through over the past week.

He rested a hand on the ground, cold and sterile. “Barbed wire. My fault.” He winced at the sound of his own broken voice. A comforting hand moved to his shoulder and he leaned into it, desperate for contact after losing the familiar weight on his side. He shuddered—not a sob, but something.

The hand shifted away and he almost made a noise, longing for the feeling to return. Instead, a figure crouched next to him. He turned to meet the bespectacled face of Ted, and found himself impressed with how put-together the man looked. The only thing giving him away were his exhausted, worried eyes, contrasting with his sturdy frame.

“Hey, uh, take a minute, okay? Calm down, then try explaining what happened to you,” he said. Wilbur breathed in and out, tears dropping to the floor as he attempted to clear his head. It was overwhelming, all of it. Too fast.

He thought back to when he was all alone, stuck in that god-awful hotel room, no food or water, gradually dying, waiting to rot. He stopped noticing the sunset or sunrise, passing him by while he played the same agonising chords on his guitar (god, he missed his guitar). The hours he spent awake were miserable and repetitive, but he didn’t have the willpower to move, so he stayed put on his bed, surrounded by empty water bottles and dirt and the smell of death. 

He accepted no one would find him, and then they did. Back then, he didn’t know a time would come where he’d want things to slow down, but this is where his life began the free-fall dive into hell. 

Wilbur dug his nails into the stone below him. “S—Schlatt and Cooper, they found me. It’d been two months.” His voice stuttered and cracked and he screwed his eyes shut. Images of that evening flooded his brain in waves, making his chest hurt with each recollection. 

“Two months?” Someone asked. He thinks it was Noah.

Wilbur nodded. “In the hotel. Alone.” He thought about Schlatt’s face, and how he commented on how little he’d changed. Cooper had later told him the man used a loose razor blade to shave and cut his hair, but the skater wouldn’t let him get the rusty old thing anywhere near him, explaining their contrasting looks.

“Oh.” Ted paused. He looked like he wanted to say something else, face scrunched up and contemplating. But he shook his head. “Go on.” Wilbur grimaced, not trusting himself to continue. He pictured Schlatt sitting on the floor next to him, engrossed in their conversation and as the evening light highlighted his features.  _ ‘Nah, I don’t call ‘em zombies. Makes you feel like a character, yeah?’ _

He drew a sharp breath and blocked the memory from his train of thought. 

“Schlatt left, didn’t come back—fuck, he knew, didn’t he? He knew he was infected?” The realisation sat on his shoulders, weighing him down. How could he be so stupid? Why didn’t he make Schlatt stay? The man’s words echoed in his head. 

_ ‘If one of those creatures gets me, don’t hesitate—y’know what I mean?’ _

He should’ve caught the way his friend’s words jumped, how his face twitched, how his tone shifted. Schlatt knew he was a dead man walking. It wasn’t just a hypothetical. Wilbur shuddered and continued his story.

“Cooper said we had to come here, so we did. But…“

“He got hurt?” Ted finished the sentence for him. Cooper had told him not to blame himself for the injury, claiming it to be a product of his panic and lack of coordination, but he couldn’t help the guilt that clawed away in his chest as the words settled across the room.

Ted seemed to notice his expression. “I’m sure he’s in safe hands now.” It sounded like a lie, but Wilbur accepted it with a little nod. He was tired.   


“Oh, like Schlatt? They took him, too, right?” He looked to Ted for conformation, but someone else spoke before the man could get a word out. Charlie. He’d been quiet since the reunion, but it was almost like he couldn’t stop himself from saying something.

“Well, we, uh, we don’t  _ exactly _ know what’s happening to Schlatt—”

Wilbur cut him off. “You didn’t ask?” He heard his voice get louder without conscious effort, which surprised both himself and the group. He turned around to face the others, standing up. In the tense silence of the foyer, he studied their faces. Hurt, regretful, angry.

Ted held his arm and gave him a stern look. “Listen…“

Wilbur shook him off, he didn’t need to be parented. It must’ve been  _ days  _ since Ted and Noah arrived. “How do y’know he’s not fuckin’ dead? How d’ y’know  _ Cooper _ isn’t—” 

“Shut up!” Wilbur stopped dead and looked to the ground. Travis was still on the floor, shaking and looking up at them with sad eyes. His voice was rougher than Wilbur remembered. The rest of the group stared at him, dumbfounded. 

After a beat, Carson spoke. “Travis…”

Travis shook his head violently. “No! Sh—shut up! Stop arguing!” His words bounced around the room, loud and scratchy. He sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down, and Wilbur wanted to reach out to comfort him, but the sharp, hurt look Travis sent him was enough to keep him at bay. 

Instead, Carson, Charlie and Noah rushed towards the crying man. Wilbur turned away, feeling alone again. Ted looked at him with painful disappointment, and he wished Schlatt was here. Hell, he wished Cooper was here. But neither would defend him, would they? No matter how close he was with Schlatt, and how close he’d gotten with Cooper, they’d both stick by Carson and Travis respectively. 

He knew he’d gone too far, anyway. He’d understand that even if he wasn’t being glared at by three different people. Ted took his arm again, a sliver of sympathy sat behind his cold stare. He spoke, low and careful. 

“Let’s go. We got them to set up your room.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On a bed, there lay a man. His name was Cooper and he was unconscious. Medics swarmed him like flies, wrapping his wound and scanning him with flashing, buzzing machines. The room looked like a hospital suite, all white and sterile, but the medics looked more like scientists than doctors. They poked and prodded Cooper’s injury with little care, analysing the shoddy stitches and areas of infection, writing notes and taking blood samples.

When Cooper shifted, they injected him with a strong painkiller and left the room, eager to get away from the man. A fortified glass panel divided the room from the corridor, allowing the medics to view the patient without getting near him.

They’d all been more careful since Incident #410X, which had resulted in the untimely termination of one of their fellow scientists. They weren’t sure if Patient One’s scratch was infectious or lethal, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Even so, their boss had scolded them for putting a bullet in the medic’s head rather than restraining them and using them for further research.

A quiet murmur they’d been maintaining throughout the procedure died down to tense silence. Cooper moved again, his leg twitching. The medics drew in a collective breath, watching the man with intense eyes. Their test results had been inconclusive so far, the regular infection in their subject’s leg confusing their virus-detecting scanners. This was the moment of truth. The moment they would find out if their lab contained one creature, or two. 

Cooper’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned, unable to move his body. He watched his surroundings, the blinding whiteness of the room making him squint. Panic started to climb up his spine as he struggled harder to move. Fuck, why couldn’t he move? Was he dead? Oh, god, was he infected?

Faint memories came back to him. Arriving at Promise Labs, seeing Travis, collapsing. The rest was blank, but he pieced it together. He must be in some kind of hospital. 

When he heard the faint beeping of a machine monitoring his pulse, he let himself relax a bit. Not dead, just paralysed. His finger twitched and he sighed in relief, his autonomy was coming back. And hey, his leg didn’t hurt.

But then he overheard something, a cry he wasn’t supposed to hear. Somewhere else in the building, echoed across the empty halls, he heard screams that sounded far too familiar. It was then he realised:

He wasn’t safe here. No one was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, uh, that was a doozy, huh? let me know what you thought in the comments! i am so grateful for your support and feedback :)
> 
> anyway, until next time, have a lovely day and thanks for reading xoxo
> 
> \- Ren


	14. So, when I lose my gravity in this sleepy womb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic's LOG: June 20th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a little while on this, and I think it paid off! This is one of my favourite chapters so far, and I tried a style that isn't very usual for me... I think you'll 'like' this one!
> 
> WARNINGS: implied violence

**Medic’s LOG: June 20th**

Patient One has been causing trouble in the lab. It refuses to stop screaming, despite our attempts to calm it. It’s not in any physical pain, and yet it screams until it cannot scream anymore. Its vocal cords are being severely damaged, so we have resorted to putting it under anaesthesia for ten hours per day to allow it to rest. 

Our current theory is that it is under mental distress due to lack of interaction with other people, and confusion as to where it is. We cannot remedy this at the current time because of the danger of letting untrained humans near a potential virus carrier.

Current prototypes for the cure have been notably unsuccessful and our tests have been inconclusive as to whether Patient One can spread the virus. Patient One still exhibits physical traits of the virus, the same as when it was introduced into the lab. It appears to be half-conscious of its actions, which could be due to either the virus or the anaesthetic. 

When told about Incident 410X, Patient One seemed highly distressed, indicating a sense of empathy or remorse. This will need further testing to clarify if Patient One can feel unique human emotion, or if the virus is too far gone. Tests will be essential to ensure a cure that will work on subjects completely overtaken by the virus as well as rare cases such as Patient One. 

We are still unsure if the virus carriers are alive, undead, or walking corpses. Potential tests on Patient One will help us find out more about the nature of the virus. However, some suggested tests could be too dangerous to enact, risking the life of our most valuable asset. We do not know if Patient One is a unique case, but it is certainly dissimilar to subjects we have previously seen. 

Note: Patient One has been moved to a soundproof room to ensure Patient Two and our current occupants don’t hear its screams. 

Patient Two seems to be recovering well from his injury. However, we still cannot tell if he has the virus. There are no physical signs of it, and he is interacting with the medics normally, despite being suspicious at first, but our scanners still pick up his infection and fever as evidence of the virus.

Note: Work on a new set of scanners has begun.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wilbur couldn’t remember how long he was lying on his bed. Long enough to feel the springs digging into his spine. He’d been trying to sleep, but the mattress was too hard and the room was too hot and it was too light outside. Or, that’s what he told himself the problems were.

A swift knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts and he cursed, sitting up. His muscles ached as he moved, reviving the overhaul of fatigue he’d been ignoring ever since Cooper got hurt. 

“What?” he said. He cringed at the sharpness in his tone. The door opened to reveal Carson, his cautious appearance making Wilbur regret his actions further. He’d made himself look like a complete twat, huh? He stared at the man in his doorframe and gestured for him to come in. Carson did so, standing in the centre of the room and shifting his weight from one foot to another. The quiet between them was awkward, like that of strangers

“We’re not… you’re not a bad person, Wilbur.” Carson’s words cut through the silence. Wilbur scoffed. What a thing to say. He never saw his friend (acquaintance) as the type to lie, but impressions can deceive. 

Carson frowned, he could sense the frustration radiating off of him. “You saved Cooper’s life. You were alone for months. One of your closest friends died—” Wilbur tensed up—” you’re allowed to be an asshole for a couple of minutes.” He sounded like a coach giving a pep talk, or a parent lecturing a kid. Whatever, it wasn’t right. Wilbur knew he was in deep shit, to make Carson act so serious. Or maybe that’s just how things were now, he wouldn’t know.

He rested his head in his hands, fingers weaving through his tattered hair. “I don’t know if I can be normal right now,” his nails dug into his scalp, “it’s all been so fucked up for so long.” Admitting it felt like giving up, but he was doing that anyway. 

His mind wandered to the first news report on the virus, blaring in the background, ignored in favour of joking around with his friends. If only he’d known. It all seemed so far away back then, even when it got serious. It wasn’t threatening. It wasn’t here. He should’ve paid attention, he should’ve gone home.

For the first time in weeks, he thought about the other Soots. Are they alive? Have any of them turned? Are they the same people, or have they been unravelled and decayed to the point of no return, like him? He’d rather they were dead. How selfish was that? A sob threatened to spill from his chest as he shut his eyes, trying to picture their faces. Images saved on his phone, memories he thought would last forever, videos where he laughed so hard he forgot to breathe. He couldn’t remember. 

The bed shifted next to him and he looked up. Carson had sat down, wearing a tired expression of concern. Wilbur laughed, more of a sad exhale than anything, he didn’t deserve the man’s pity. 

“None of us are okay, Wil,” Carson said. He raised a hand to touch his shoulder, but hesitated, and opted instead for the empty space of bedsheets between them. Oh, cruel honesty, how the great fall. Wilbur sighed.

Not a bad person, but a bad friend.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Incident LOG #411X: June 26th**

Category of Incident: death of non-medic occupant of Prom Labs - controlled incident

Date/Time of Incident: June 25th, 18:20-24:00 - evening-night

Parties Involved: Patient One, non-medic occupant (male), medics

LOG Author and Qualifications: Medic - present at incident

Description of Incident:

On June 24th, 16:35, a non-medic occupant (‘NMO’ or ‘Survivor’) arrived. He was scanned and cleared for entry into the living space of Prom Labs, but before other occupants could be called via the radio system, the NMO attacked a medic who was on guard duty at the time. We responded immediately, retraining the NMO and checking again for signs of the virus. We found nothing, but it was obvious the NMO had been drinking heavily before he arrived. 

The NMO passed out due to stress and over-consumption of alcohol. He was moved to a barred cell in the lab section of Prom Labs, and medics present at the scene asked [REDACTED] for advice and guidance on how to handle the situation. They suggested using the NMO as a test subject for Patient One. 

The test was high-risk but was not supposed to go the way it did. Medics in charge of Patient One’s cure and physical wellbeing had neglected to feed it, kept it sedated for hours on end, and intentionally distressed and confused it with no briefing with [REDACTED]. They also failed to relay this information to medics working with the NMO. 

Patient One was placed into the cell with the NMO and instructed to bite and/or scratch him. This would be a test to see if the cure prototypes had any effect on the spread of the virus from carrier to uninfected human. Patient One refused, due to prior knowledge of Incident #410X and a lack of physical bearings/awareness. Instead, it lashed out and tried to harm the medics at the scene. 

After several hours of this, the medics decided that Patient One had worn itself out, and left for the evening. Again, they did not run this by [REDACTED].

In the morning, myself and three other medics went to check on Patient One. The NMO was dead, seemingly killed by a wound to [REDACTED] and was not turned. Due to the nature of the injuries, it cannot be concluded whether Patient One can spread the virus. Overall, the test was a waste of time, unnecessary and a drain on medic morale. 

Patient One has been in a catatonic state since the incident. It can be assumed that it lost control of its body and let the virus take over, starved and drugged, then came back to its body afterwards. When not staring at nothing, it seems distraught, repeating phrases and names under its breath continuously. 

Note: The medic team in charge of Patient One have been disposed of and replaced.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He looked at the clock on the wall. 1:45 am. He smiled to himself and slipped out of the bed, across the room, and to the door.

Wilbur couldn’t be a bad friend forever, after all.

The door made no sound as he opened it, and he thanked the modern design, stepping out into the dark hallway. He looked up and down, checking for signs of life. When he saw none, he closed his door and began to walk, close to the wall, trying to remember the directions he had taken walking to his room, and reversing them. 

The darkness made it near impossible to see what was in front of him, so Wilbur relied on his shitty instincts to keep him from falling. This almost worked, and he only tripped twice in three minutes of aimless walking. 

He was starting to regret his decisions when a sliver of light appeared. Pressing his body against the wall, he watched a door open and a tall figure appear. At first, he was sure it was a medic, and a million bad excuses rushed through his head, but when he caught the shine of round glasses, a soft relief came over him. 

Ted leant on the doorframe, silhouetted by the warm light of his room. He raised an eyebrow at Wilbur, who probably looked like a deer in headlights. At least he’d had the chance to shower.

“Uh, hey,” Wilbur said. Ted didn’t look impressed.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice clear and strong. Wilbur felt compelled to tell him the truth, even if it was bad. 

He stayed quiet for a good minute. “I was going to find Schlatt and Cooper.” They’d been waiting for six days so far for news on Cooper’s condition, even longer for anything about Schlatt. After his talk with Carson and a lot of lonely reflection, Wilbur had wanted to take action for once.

Ted stared him down, face unreadable, then cracked a smile. “Be careful, and take your shoes off.” His words hung in the air. Wilbur shook his head.

“What? Aren’t you going to stop me?” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a laugh bubbling at the back of his throat. Ted shrugged, looking to the side.

“Listen man, I was gonna do the same thing. It’s safer if you go alone,” he said. Wilbur frowned. How was it safer? But he didn’t say it out loud. A part of him knew that Ted was right, in a way. If one person gets found, it’s better than losing two. Still, a pit of anxiety sat in his stomach as he analysed Ted’s uneasy expression. 

Wilbur crossed his arms. “Right. Well…” Ted smiled, warm and thoughtful.

“Don’t die.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) so how was that? I'd love to hear what you thought of that :D I tried a style I'm not used to, so I'd like to know if it worked or not. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Anyways thanks for reading and have a great day xoxo
> 
> \- Ren :)


	15. Drifting as I dream, I'll wake up soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur has a Bad Time. Cooper reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am so sorry this chapter took so long to come out. I tried writing it multiple times but every time the words just didn't feel organic or right. With everything that's happening right now, both in real life and online, it's been very hard to turn off the world and just write. I hope you're all okay and if you are protesting you are doing it as safely as you can! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter as an escape from the outside world for a bit :) I don't think I need any warnings this time except for maybe depressing thoughts and claustrophobia? It's quite a mild chapter all things considered.

**Medic’s LOG: June 28th**

Patient Two has shown signs of recovery from his injury and fever. The infection is completely gone and with our new scanners, we can confirm that he is not a carrier of the virus. He will go back to the Living Quarters of Prom Labs soon. 

Note: Patient Two MUST be monitored once reintroduced to the other non-medic occupants since we do not know how much information about Patient One he has overheard.

Patient One has shown no progress since Incident #411X. We are continuing tests of the cure, but have found it necessary to keep it sedated at all times to keep it from becoming distressed. Unlike the previous team working with Patient One, we have been keeping it physically healthy and proceeding with further caution when interacting with it. We have not told it any information about Patient Two or Incident #411X, though we assume it already knows what happened since it was there. 

Note: Patient One is to be sedated at all times due to the risk of medic safety. It may be brought to semi-consciousness for tests in need of physical reactions such as pain tests or to test its willingness to comply.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he woke up, Wilbur remembered a lot of things. The shadow moving behind him in the dark, the way he turned his head at the sound, his scream, dampened by a hand and cloth. But nothing felt solid, or real, in his memories. Phantom pain made his arm buzz, and his eyes drifted down to see a tiny red dot nestled near a vein. Almost hidden. 

Then the few scenes he remembered faded, obscuring like a dream that slipped further from his fingers the harder he tried to recall it. A dull panic fell into the back of his mind once he recognised his consciousness was slipping again, falling out of his body and onto the floor, melting into the cold, clinical surroundings. A familiar nagging instinct begged him to get up, to do something, to keep his memories, but, as always, he stayed still and silent, never speaking, never moving, never helping himself, muscles weak and will weaker. 

Heh, will. That’s funny.

Wilbur exhaled a laugh, eyes watering as he felt whatever chemicals they’d put in him do their work, flowing through his body to his brain, leaving a trailing impression along the raised blue lines under his skin, and erasing a part of his mind. They didn’t want him to remember, so he wouldn’t. He couldn’t believe it was that simple. God, they could change him entirely, make him forget everything that he’d been through, everything he’d seen. They could make him their experiment, a test subject who never remembered the test. 

Him not knowing who ‘they’ were proved that. It was no surprise he didn’t understand where he was.

A ragged breath left his body, catching in his throat for a second too long to be stable. He tried so hard not to cry, but he failed, he’d always fail. Heavy tears fell from his face and dropped to the ground, slow at first, a few raindrops making their journey to the sea, lonely and simple. But once they started, he couldn’t stop them. The dam broke, and something inside him let go. 

He sobbed, hunched over and gasping for air between anguished cries. His panicked hands covered his face and he clawed at his hair with broken, dirty nails. Digging his palms into his eyes didn’t stop the tears, and made his head ache, but weaving calloused fingers through strands of hair and pulling until he bled distracted him from the feeling just as well. 

The last thing to leave his mind was the feeling of being forced to inhale something stinging, his sad recollections faded to blankness, and the last of the memories disappearing without a trace. Wilbur stopped crying, catching his breath as the reality dawned upon him. He knew nothing. 

Chemicals buzzed in his veins. Where was he?

His vision blurred when he looked up, but he tried his best to make out his surroundings through the fog. Under his hand were white slabs, clean enough that the dirt in his nails felt wrong, cold enough to freeze his palm. He leant against a rough wall, body now relaxed like a rag doll on the floor. In front of him were tall metal bars and a single light. There were no windows. 

He was in a cell. He didn’t know a Laboratory had cells.

Nausea burned in his throat as he fell from barely awake to a shallow imitation of awareness. It was like his brain had given him a last goodbye before dragging him back into a confused, dreamlike state. He shuddered, almost crying again, a silent scream on his tongue. Was he in a cell? Or somewhere… else?

His imagination sparked without his knowledge, morphing the surrounding room. He pictured green wallpaper and carpet and an uncomfortable bed and a familiar taunting door. A sound came from his throat, something between pain and fear as he saw where he was. 

The strange thing was the level of detail he conjured. Empty ramen packets, smashed china plates, coffee stains, a dead cockroach. He supposed he’d spent long enough in that room to know. The only difference was that the door was locked from the outside, though he didn’t understand how he could tell. His body began to shake.

Stuck in the hotel room, no way out this time. In the back of his mind, he knew the room was fake, he wasn’t back there, he was in a cell, but what he saw was deceptive enough to be real. Dread consumed him, clinging to his clothes like kinetic energy, eating away at his skin. He reached for a guitar that wasn’t there. 

In the end, all he could do was curl into a ball and hope for everything to be normal when he woke up.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cooper didn’t like the Labs. This wasn’t an unpopular opinion to have, but he’d been aching to act on it ever since the medics started scanning him. For the days he was trapped on a hospital bed, he’d been waiting to be released so he could rally his friends and get the hell out of there.

Now the time had come, but again, he was trapped. A medic stood at every door, watching him like vultures trained to a corpse. Even though he didn’t see them, he knew there were cameras everywhere. And once he reached his friends, two of them were missing. 

Despite this, they tried to go on as normal. It was game night, apparently, and he’ll admit he didn’t mind being close to people, especially these people. 

“Uno!” Travis said. Cooper had come to understand that Travis didn’t speak much. In fact, he didn’t speak at all before he and Wilbur (don’t think about him) arrived, and even now he always carried a little notebook and pencil. Hearing his friend’s voice, so excited and almost-happy, let him pretend everything was fine. Everything was normal. No apocalypse, no Labs, no missing Wilbur and no zombie Schlatt. Just a group of friends playing Uno, probably for a video, for an audience, for Twitch. 

When they all laughed, he could almost pretend he was high. 

Some days his leg still hurt. These things take a long time to heal, and he went through a lot of shit before the healing even started. It stung, and sometimes if he put too much weight on it it’d burn, but he could live with that for now. He wouldn’t tell the medics. There’s no way he’d go back to that damn room again. 

He hoped Wilbur was okay. He knew he wasn’t. Ted told him what happened, whispered and detail-free. Someone’s always watching. He’d gone on a mission to find Schlatt and Cooper, then he didn’t come back. He’d been gone for a few days before Cooper arrived.

No one talked about Schlatt.

He’d been trying to spend a lot of time with Travis. His best friend wasn’t as responsive as he used to be, and certain things made him freeze up, which was learnt through trial and error. Cooper cracked a joke once about how it feels like they’re in a video game, and Travis didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day. He didn’t even show up to dinner, so Cooper went looking. Then he found him crying in his room and they didn’t talk about it again. 

Still, there were good times, too, and Cooper saw progress in the way Travis laughed at someone’s joke or spoke just a bit louder than usual when he was excited. He just wished that one day he’d be able to ask his friend what the hell happened while they were apart.

Back to the Uno game. Charlie just won. He grinned and leaned back against the wall, glasses shining in the electric light of the living room. It really did feel like a movie, this time, but he’d learnt not to comment. Pros of hanging out with Travis: you discover how to listen.

Of all the people Cooper had reunited with, Charlie was the one who worried him the most, because he gave him nothing to worry about. He was all smiles and jokes and optimism, and by now everyone saw right through it. And yet, no one told him to stop, to be honest, to open up, they sat by and let him put on a show. Why? Because they all benefitted from it. Charlie was the last thing everyone had to hold on to, the last string piecing them together and telling them everything would be okay. They were selfish. Cooper couldn’t blame them, though. He was selfish too.

He was selfish in the way he didn’t get out of bed when he heard Noah scream in the night. He was selfish in the way he didn’t talk to Carson about how tired he seemed. He was selfish in the way he ignored Ted’s advice and kept pushing his luck with the medics, pestering them about giving his skateboard back. He wanted to be free from it all. He wanted to relax. 

When a note appeared on his lap, reading ‘meeting, my room, tonight - Ted’, Cooper wanted to be selfish again. His mind begged for a good night’s sleep and a stress-free evening. But then he thought of Wilbur and Schlatt, and the way the medics looked at him, and how desperate he’d been to get out of this place, and Ted’s note felt much more important as he screwed it up in his hand. 

Screw being selfish. That wasn’t him anymore. He wouldn't let it be him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Incident LOG #412X: June 30th**

Category of Incident: detainment and possible testing of non-medic occupant 

Date/Time of Incident: June 29th - 23:45 - night

Parties Involved: non-medic occupant ‘Wilbur Soot’ (male), Patient One

LOG Author and Qualifications: [REDACTED]

Description of Incident: [REDACTED]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe I hope that was worth the wait >:)
> 
> don't forget to leave kudos and feedback, I love getting comments because they motivate me a LOT so please feel free to do that. Hope you all have a good day and take a break from things if you need to.
> 
> \- Ren xoxo


	16. To realize the hand of life is reaching out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt wakes up. Ted holds a meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all! sorry for the wait!! uh this chapter exists... idk how i feel about it but i guess you'll have to see for yourselves :)
> 
> WARNINGS: needles

Schlatt was having a bad day. Okay, yeah, all of his days for the past two months had been bad, but this one took the top spot, which is saying something considering he literally died a few weeks ago. It wasn’t the worst because of the specific events of the day—though they’d been upsetting so far—he’d experienced worse. What made it so horrible was how  _ tired _ he felt, almost bored with it at this point. You’d expect life to give him a break by now, maybe a bit of good to make up for being so harsh, but no. Of course not. Life is a vicious bastard.

The day started on a bad note, which turned into a whole melody of bad.

Being awakened from his medically induced coma never ended well. It meant tests. Tests that needed him to be awake. Pain tests were the most common, electric shocks and burning metal, but they tested him in other ways too, shouting commands and waiting for him to comply, or stabbing his arm with a needle containing some new mix of chemicals, and watching the results. 

He often wondered how his life got to this point, and if he’d ever get out of it. He’d like to think so. When the pain got too severe, he thought about his friends, questioning if they were still staying in the Laboratories, unaware of the dangers lurking within, or if they’d moved on to a safer place, planning some kind of rescue mission. The latter was much more comforting, so he thought of that one more. He hoped Wilbur and Cooper were okay. 

Today was a strange day, and there were a few tells that clued Schlatt in on this. The medics were wearing more protective gear than usual, which meant they were taking him somewhere. On top of that, they had lifted him into a state of full awareness, instead of the dazed half-state they loved to keep him in, which they’d  _ never _ done before. 

Or, almost never. 

Oh. Oh no.

Gloved hands grabbed his arms and pulled him up out of the ‘bed’ he stayed in and forced him to his feet. He thrashed against them, gritting his teeth and trying to pull his body away, he even let a noise slip out of his throat, but stopped when he heard how inhuman he sounded. Instead, he continued to twitch and struggle as the medics pushed him along, using what little energy his disused muscles could still give him. 

A cold square of metal rested against his bare arm, held in place by even more tight hands, and his flinched prematurely, knowing what was to come. A sharp shock of white-hot electricity burst through his veins, burning his skin and silencing his struggles as the medics guided him down an all too familiar path. He pondered if his eyes were still the pitch-black pools he’d seen reflected in shiny surfaces and bodies of water.

They passed several large, metal doors and countless bright white hallways until they reached the stairs. Schlatt  _ hated _ those stairs. As the medics attempted to pull him down the staircase, he dug his feet into the ground, crying out as their grips tightened and their stoic demeanour turned to irritated. One of them pulled another electricity-making weapon from their lab coat, and Schlatt shut up. He let them take him down the darkening stairs as a pool of dread filled his lungs. 

At the bottom of the stairs there a simple, short corridor. It didn’t have the same bright white walls as the Lab upstairs, but it contained the same clinical, crushing feeling. In fact, the lack of windows and knowledge that it was underground only increased the claustrophobic atmosphere. Somewhere, he could hear rain pattering on the ground above them.

Along the corridor, there were several cells, one of which Schlatt prayed he wouldn’t be locked in again. The distinctive taste of iron settled on his tongue as he breathed in the thick air around him, dredging up memories he’d been trying to erase. The medics pushed him forwards, past each empty cell (he sighed in relief when they passed the most familiar cage) until reaching the very last one. 

He was ready to get it over with. He knew what would be in the cell, another poor soul reduced to a test subject for the medic’s wicked experiments. Maybe if he just scratched them, it’d be over quicker. Or would that be wrong? Whatever. He was tired. 

The cell was opened, and he was shoved inside with little care. He heard the medics back away from the bars after locking the heavy door, and he brushed himself off. It seemed cold, but he couldn’t really tell. At least it was spacious. There was a figure in the corner, curled up and shivering. His hair was a mess, but Schlatt didn’t bother pointing it out. The poor guy would be dead soon, anyway.

The figure looked up, and Schlatt realised his day would get a whole lot worse.

Wilbur let out a shaky gasp. “Schlatt?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cooper arrived at Ted’s room at 11:30 pm, but everyone else was already there. He grumbled something about the invitation being vague, and how this better be important, but dropped it as soon as he sat on the plush carpet. 

Also sitting on the floor were Travis, Charlie, and Carson, while Ted and Noah sat on the bed with stern expressions. Cooper leaned against the bedroom wall, his back aching for some ungodly reason. He let his bad leg stretch out on the ground, sighing when he noticed the pitiful look Ted was giving him. He didn’t need to be babied. 

“Why the fuck are we here?” he asked, running a hand through his scruffy hair. Ted raised an eyebrow at his attitude but answered the question. 

“We’re going to find Wilbur and Schlatt,” he said. His hand tapped at the bedframe, and Cooper’s paranoid mind wondered if it was morse code. He then realised how stupid that was, since Ted didn’t know morse code, and neither did anyone else in the room. Noah nodded at Ted’s words, bags under his eyes. Cooper wondered how much sleep the guy got. Not much, probably. That was fair, it’s not like he got much sleep either.

Noah held his sleeve, tugging on it as he spoke. “We need to get out of this place. I mean, everyone gets that we’re not safe, right?” A chorus of agreement rang out across the room, including from Cooper, who’d been wanting to say those exact words ever since the medics let him free. Ted smiled at the response.

“So the plan is to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on in this place,” he started, “and stop them from doing it. Then we leave.” The others looked content with this, but Cooper hesitated. What was that first bit? 

He almost put his hand up to speak, before remembering they’re not in high school. “Uh, why do we need to know what their  _ plan _ is?” He sounded tired. Ted shot him a confused smile.

“To stop them from doing it?” he said as if it was obvious. Cooper faltered. 

“Why?”

Ted’s hand stopped moving. “To stop them from hurting more people.” His tone was serious, and concerned, and everyone looked at him with questioning expressions. Was he the only one who saw the problem here? His heartbeat kicked up a notch. 

“That’s—we can’t risk that,” Cooper said, panic clear in his tone, “they’re stronger and better-equipped and, and—”

Noah cut him off. “Cooper, you’re the one with the inside knowledge of how they  _ work _ . We need you to cooperate.” And that right there was the kicker.  _ Cooperate _ . Images of the Labs flashed in Cooper’s mind: medics and scanners and needles. They didn’t have to take on the medics, or the Labs ‘greater plan’. They could just find Schlatt and Wilbur and  _ leave _ . It was simple. Why didn’t they see that? 

He felt sick as he forced himself to his feet, holding onto the wall for support. Phantom pains ran up his leg and he staggered to the door, a sudden need to get away overwhelming him. 

Travis shifted on the floor. “Cooper?” And, dammit, he sounded so hurt, but Cooper couldn’t force himself to be okay with this.

“I’m sorry,” he said, opening the bedroom door, “I can’t risk being taken again.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The medics were gone. They’d left before Wilbur even spoke, but Schlatt knew they were still watching. Somewhere in the facility, they’d be watching through screens like the cowards they are. 

That’s fine, Schlatt would rather they weren’t here in person, that would just be awkward, especially since he and Wilbur were taking their time to shit on their entire livelihoods. Ignoring the actual reason they were locked up was a lot more fun than dwelling on it, it turns out.

Wilbur smirked at a bitter joke Schlatt had made against the masked bastards. Honestly, Schlatt was enjoying being awake for once. He knew the dark future that could be fast approaching, but this time with his friend, just sitting and laughing at the absurdity of their situation, was good. 

A beat of silence sat between them. 

“So…” Wilbur said with a worn smile, “I assume you don’t like ‘em very much, the medics?” Schlatt laughed, which was rare to hear, even more so something genuine. 

“What made you think that?” he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm. Wilbur chuckled, leaning into the wall of the cell. Schlatt wished it could be like this forever. But he knew they’d have to address everything soon. Time was ticking, and he had no idea how long he could stay, well,  _ human _ for. He felt fine at the moment, but how long would they have to wait before he lost control again. Before—

No. He didn’t want to think about it. 

He’d rather forget, for a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh um what do i usually put at the end of these oh no,,, ah yeah um comment if you want :)
> 
> thanks for reading and have a nice day!!!!
> 
> ren xoxo


	17. To rid me of my pride, I call allegiance to myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carson and Travis keep watch. Wilbur offers a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets all pretend this didnt take over a week to update. :)
> 
> um so uh schlatt got an Actual Gun in Real Life for some unholy reason so i guess life imitates art
> 
> pretty sure no warnings apply for this chapter! imagine that!
> 
> hope you enjoy this... thing...

Carson wasn’t sure how he ended up on watch-duty with Travis, but he assumed it had something to do with Ted’s lack of faith in their survival skills. Which was bullshit, if Carson was honest, because Ted didn’t understand how good he’d gotten at fighting things—it’s not like he bothered to ask.

Alas, Ted gave him the job of lookout, along with Travis, a fairer choice for the role. Hell, he asked for it. Charlie and Noah were designated to finding out what the medics were planning, and Ted gave himself the job of finding and retrieving Wilbur and Schlatt. Cooper… wasn’t interested.

After the information was collected, and their friends were safe, they would put a stop to whatever Promise Labs was and get out of there. It was a simple plan, but a tough one. Not knowing the layout of the lab section of the building would be a problem, especially at night (which they’d chosen purely because most of the medics slept at night) and they had no weapons to defend themselves with.

These things worried Carson as he wandered through the dark hallways, clutching his radio in his hand. Noah had rewired them, making communication between the group easier. They had a code for if everything went to shit, but Carson hoped to god he wouldn’t have to use it. Mostly because he forgot it about five seconds after Ted told him. 

Carson reached the end of a hallway which opened out into a large room. They’d just entered the lab section of the building and were noticing a change in the layout. The walls were cleaner, whiter; the lights looked high tech and clinical, a sharp chemical smell ran through the air and stuck at the back of his throat. He didn’t like it.

Travis stood at a doorway, nodding to him as he approached. He wondered what the others were doing right now—if Charlie or Noah had been caught, if Ted had found their friends—it bothered him he had heard nothing from them since they all parted. He wished he’d told them to check in every so often, using the radio. Though, Noah told him to use it only for emergencies. 

“Do you think they’re okay?” Carson asked, standing opposite Travis. His words were hushed, but they still sounded too loud in the quiet of midnight. This side of the building fell to a far greater silence than the residential side, almost as if everything had died a sudden, muffled death. Even the machines, the gentle hum of pipes and whir of boilers, were soundless. The halls felt icy, too, cold chipping away at his skin, filling his lungs and leaving his tongue dry. Unnatural.

Travis shrugged at his question, face unreadable. He wouldn’t know, how could he? 

Carson left him an apologetic look. “Sorry.” Travis smiled, a little forced.

“It’s okay, I’m worried too.” He tapped the wall behind him with one hand. An awkward silence fell between them, eating up whatever calm Carson had left. Pools of anxiety blossomed in his chest, flooding his lungs and seeping out around his ribcage, drowning him in waves that had been building ever since the first death from the Virus. He hadn’t seen the flood signals, hadn’t noticed the inky clouds rolling over the horizon, and now it was too late. He’d never been good at finding his emotions. 

Something here was just so  _ wrong _ , and it made his head hurt trying to pinpoint what.

He grimaced, dozens of useless thoughts filling his brain. “Shit’s fucked, right?” Was all he could choke out. Travis hummed in agreement, still not big on words, and Carson wondered how his friend was coping.

They hadn’t talked about anything of value since—he didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he moved so he was leaning on the wall next to Travis. He wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to comfort his friend or himself, but Travis didn’t seem to mind.

Carson mind caught up with him. “What do you think about Cooper?” He didn’t know why he kept asking such invasive, shitty questions. That was just his way. He guessed it was better than whatever he called small talk. Travis sighed, tired. 

“He’s scared,” he said, voice small and shaky, “he doesn’t want to go back to… wherever they were keeping him.” Carson nodded, half-listening as he thought about Cooper’s anger last night, the way he froze up, then stormed out of their meeting at the mention of facing the medics again. He didn’t even wait for an explanation.

Travis nudged him. “What about you? What d’you think?” He said nothing. Cooper shouldn’t have walked out. He could have been helpful, if he’d stayed, he could have helped Ted. A group of two is safer than a lone wolf. Carson gave Travis a blank look.

“No, tell me.” It was a demand, not a question, which sounded off coming from Travis, like his voice didn’t match anything Carson had gotten used to over the past three months. It almost reminded him of how he used to talk when he was angry, before all of this. It’d usually be mock anger, played up for a video or a bit, an overreaction. But not this time.

This was real. 

Carson frowned. “I—I think he’s a coward.” It’s the easiest way he could put it, but saying the words still stung. Travis bristled, and the awkwardness was back.

They stayed quiet and still for a good five minutes before Carson checked his watch. 11:58 pm.

“It’s the fourth of July tomorrow,” Travis mumbled, sharpness lost from his tone. Carson raised an eyebrow.

“Okay?” And, yeah, he knew he sounded like an asshole right now, and Travis was only trying to show him they were still friends, or whatever, but he honestly couldn’t care less about some holiday for a nation that didn’t even exist anymore. A nation that bombed its own cities when the Virus got out of control. A nation that celebrated freedom while cutting phone lines to stop the spread of ‘misinformation’. It barely crossed his mind when things were normal, anyway.

Travis flinched, enough to make Carson feel a bit shitty. “I was just… nevermind.” He went silent again. Dammit. 

Carson checked his watch again. 12 midnight. He should have said something, then, when things were still fresh and they had time to think, but he didn’t, because he was the cowardly one.

He pushed himself off the wall. “C’mon, we have to go.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Maybe you should just turn me.” 

“What?” 

Wilbur and Schlatt had been sitting in their cell for at least a day by now. Schlatt explained everything and Wilbur sat and listened, growing increasingly horrified at his friend’s re-tellings. Now, they were sitting further apart than either party was comfortable with, because Schlatt was paranoid about how sharp his nails were and he knew from experience that one little slip-up could cost a lot. 

With no hesitation, Wilbur repeated his statement. “You should turn me. That’s what they want you to do, and they’re not letting you go until you do it.” His voice had gotten stronger over the last few days, which made it notably different from the last time Schlatt saw him, though he doubted he looked any better.

Schlatt shook his head. “Fuck no! Why would I do that?” Whatever Wilbur had in mind, he didn’t like the sound of it.

Wilbur shrugged. “I’d rather be turned and shot in the head than mauled by my best friend.” His own nonchalant tone unnerved him, but he didn’t have the energy to be dramatic. Schlatt, however, had about three months of drama ready to burst out at any moment.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he said, black eyes burning with anger. “Don’t you trust me not to kill you?” The words ‘best friend’ were buzzing around his head, but he ignored that when he remembered Wilbur had no idea if his other, better friends were alive. Yeah, no, he meant nothing by it. He scowled.

Wilbur sighed, wishing his guitar was with him.

“Listen. I trust you. I trust you’d  _ try  _ not to kill me. I know you’d fail because whatever the virus in your blood  _ is _ , it wants you to kill.” He finished his piece with a hum and wondered if his back would hurt less if he stood up. 

Schlatt grit his teeth. “I—I can control it. I know I can.” Nothing about his words screamed confidence. Despite himself, Wilbur let out an abrupt laugh.

“You can’t, Schlatt.” With those words, Schlatt stood up, fists clenched at his sides.

“And why not? ‘Cause I’m too weak? Don’t have any self-control? Am I just another fucking monster to you, Will? Am I—shit.” His voice went quiet as he trailed off, causing Wilbur to lift his head in interest. 

“What?” he asked, watching his friend look around the cell. 

Schlatt ran a hand through his hair, a confused look written on his features. “I don’t want to kill you.” Wilbur felt almost disappointed at the statement.

“Yeah, no shit,” he said, feeling out the imperfections in the floor with his fingertips. He wondered how long it would take for his friend to give in to the Virus, shuddering as he imagined what might happen. He already knew Schlatt wouldn’t turn him, and that would be both of their downfalls. There was no way he’d fight the guy, if it came down to it. The outcome was inevitable. 

Schlatt rolled his eyes. “No, no. None of me wants to kill you.” As if that made anything clearer. Wilbur tried to communicate his lack of understanding wordlessly, which Schlatt seemed to pick up on, because he started talking again.

“Ah. When I was… here before—” he chose his words carefully, deliberately—” there was this nagging feeling, at the back of my brain, like the virus was trying to take over. It kept going until I couldn’t fight it. But,” he hesitated, “I can’t feel it anymore.” Wilbur sat still for a moment, processing everything his friend just said. His tired brain worked slowly, as if his thoughts moved through maple syrup, but he got there in the end.

His eyes lit up. “You’re cured!” The excitement in his voice surprised Schlatt, who looked like he was about to have a breakdown, in a good way. He nodded, a smile ghosting his face, almost as if he didn’t believe it.

“Those motherfuckers actually cured me, holy shit.” His voice was breathless. Wilbur noted that his friend’s eyes were still black. Maybe that was a permanent change, and he was just about to say something when they both heard a metal door slam, the sound vibrating through their bones and killing the conversation dead. Footsteps rang out down the long corridor of cells. 

Oh. Someone was coming down to see them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop woop! only three chapters left! ah yes, it's all coming together.
> 
> since I've had a few inquiries, id like to say you're free to write any spin-offs to this fic if ya want! that could be following a 'character' i haven't mentioned in this fic, pre-canon stuff with our boys, or post-canon stuff once I'm done with the fic! however, i do have lore that isn't really mentioned here that i need to explain if anyone wants to do that, so please drop me a dm on Instagram (te-draws) or discord (Ben Ten#8588) if you're interested!
> 
> anyway, i hope you're enjoying this fic as much as i am hehe :) I'm so glad it managed to get so popular!!!???? don't forget to comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> thank you for reading and have a great day!! :D
> 
> \- ren xoxo


	18. Floating in outer space, have I misplaced a part of my soul?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Schlatt meet someone new. Charlie makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...  
> I am very sorry about how long this took to come out. I've been super demotivated recently due to schoolwork, working on other AUs, and the Drama TM happening on smptwt all the damn time. 
> 
> I'm so happy to get this chapter to you, though! And we are so nearly done with this fic! I feel like another reason I've been putting writing this off is that I don't want it to be over :(
> 
> Oh well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it was worth the wait haha. You may want to read last chapter to refresh your memory lmao.
> 
> PS: read the note at the end for something exciting!!

An inky shadow emerged from the hallway as the footsteps grew ever closer. They sounded like metal snapping on the stone floor, ringing out across the cells and interrupting the dead silence of Wilbur and Schlatt. Their conversation had ended as soon as they heard the door open, and now they watched in suspense, waiting for whoever was approaching to reach the end of the hallway and show themselves.

Schlatt focussed in on what else he could hear: Wilbur’s heavy breaths, shaking and petrified; the rustling of fabric, moving with the shadow; his own heartbeat, pounding hard in his chest for the first time in weeks. The tips of his fingers tingled like pins and needles, blood warming his hands and racing around his body. 

Fear coiled in his stomach, tight and tense and horrid as his breath caught in his throat, the burning sensation of air on his tongue almost choking him when he realised his lungs needed oxygen. He shuffled across the floor of the cell until his back was against the wall. Wilbur shook next to him, curled up and cowering. Schlatt assumed he would be like that too if he wasn’t so focussed on his own mortality. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he managed to whisper, gripping his friend’s arm and meeting his eyes. Schlatt caught his own reflection in Wilbur’s glasses, as dusty as they were, and he regretted it. He was a mess, all pale and tired and ruined. For a second, he remembered life before all of this, and an existential sickness rose in his chest. 

Breaking contact with the dark, inhuman eyes of his reflection, he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t think about it. How could he?

The footsteps stopped and Schlatt looked up to see the shadow had made way for a man. 

He stood tall and imposing at the bars of their cell, shadows obscuring his face. Schlatt could tell he wasn’t just any medic, because his face wasn’t fully covered. He wore a white surgical mask across his nose and mouth, similar to the medics, but his eyes were bare. Sharp, dark eyebrows sculpted out a harsh expression, looking down at them. Schlatt shivered.

The man plucked a pen out of the top pocket of his white lab coat. “So, Patient One.” A protest threatened to escape Schlatt’s mouth, but his common sense stopped him. Still, his face contorted into a scowl, which was enough to show he was listening.

“Your tests seem to have paid off.” His voice was deep, threatening, and above all, professional. The way he spoke reminded Schlatt of a scientific experiment YouTube channel he used to enjoy—though that man talked about mice in mazes and chemicals bonding, not people on the verge of death. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t contain his thoughts. “Let us go, then.” He spat the words with a level of venom he couldn’t back up, pretending he wasn’t in a position miles lower than the man, reaching up with nothing to hold on to. Wilbur froze next to him, a warning to stop talking before he got hurt, something Schlatt was admittedly not good at. 

The man shook his head. “Oh, no, Patient One—” that name again, Schlatt cursed under his breath—” you’ll be staying here!” His tone was cheery now, almost sadistic. Schlatt grit his teeth, resisting the urge to run to the bars and make a mess of everything. He’d probably get shocked again, anyway.

“We must carry out more tests to find a true cure. The one we’ve been working on only works on  _ you _ , of course, and we need to test how ‘cured’ you are,” the man said, dusting off his crisp white coat. Schlatt hoped he fell in some dirt, among other things. The sharp smell of chlorine hit the back of his throat, as if the man had carried it down with him from the labs upstairs. 

Wilbur unfroze. “Who the bloody hell even are you?” His voice was stronger than before, Schlatt noted. He must be angry. The man looked apologetic, in a narcissistic kind of way.

“How could I be so rude? You can call me Dr M. I run this facility.” He scribbled something onto a clipboard and placed his pen back into his pocket, movements neat and calculated. Schlatt swore he heard something thud on the floor upstairs, but he ignored it.

Dr M’s eyes glinted in the thin beams of light overhead. “Now… if you’d come with me with no fuss, I’ll take you both to the labs.” And, well, Schlatt didn’t like the sound of that at all. Going back to the labs, back to being treated like an experiment, back to sleeping drugs and electric shocks and being not-quite-awake but not-quite-asleep either. The threat in the word ‘both’ also had his brain whirring. The thought of Wilbur going through all of that, maybe even more, hurting at the hands of these monsters, made him want to scream.

But what else could they do? Schlatt felt himself stand up involuntarily, Wilbur grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back away from the bars. Dr M nodded to him.

Which is when Schlatt heard something the others couldn’t. Footsteps. Stopping just outside the door to this place, at least that’s what it sounded like. He listened closely, trying to take advantage of his heightened senses. A frustrated groan, and the punch of keypad buttons. A buzz, negative. Another beep of the keypad Schlatt remembered seeing twice. Both times he was taken down here. A second incorrect input. Whoever was trying to get in, they didn’t know the code. 

Which could only mean one thing.

He kept quiet, following along with what Dr M was telling him to do, ignoring Wilbur’s mumbled pleas for him to listen, standing back from the bars as a key was placed into the lock of the cell door. Dr M had a shock gun in his coat pocket.

The keypad outside had been through about twenty combinations when Schlatt heard a new buzz and a little flash of confidence filled his head. The door opened, startling Dr M. He spun towards the door, pulling out the shock gun and pointing it towards a tall, shadowy figure at the end of the hall. 

Schlatt squinted, looking through the opened door of his cell, which he was yet to leave. The figure who had broken through the door held another shock gun, pointed out in front of him with threads of electricity flying off of it. 

For a split second, the sparks lit up the figure’s face, and Schlatt almost let out a laugh from what—or who—he was seeing. None other than Ted, standing there all tall and terrifying. He stifled it, though, and instead decided to take advantage of the situation, odds finally stacked in his favour.

He barely registered what he was doing until his fist made contact with Dr M’s face, throwing the man backwards with the force of the punch. The crack that bounced around the room brought everything back into context, a cathartic fulfilment running from Schlatt’s head right down to his chest as some sense of balance pushed its way into his mind. A shout from Dr M made it better.

He dropped the shock gun, and it slid across the floor to Schlatt’s feet. He walked into the hallway, hands raised defensively at Dr M, and kicked the gun over to Wilbur with a brief smile. 

Ted rushed to Schlatt’s side, holding his shock gun up to Dr M steadily. It was then that Schlatt laughed, a manic but genuine thing, leaning on his friend slightly. 

“Thanks for that,” he choked out, heart racing. Ted put his free arm around him, comforting and safe. Dr M groaned, rubbing his jaw. His eyes were full of hate, but he couldn’t do anything about it, with two shock guns raised against him, and no way of defending himself. Schlatt felt a sudden rush of satisfaction at the way he cowered. 

Ted smiled, then turned an icy expression to Dr M. “You’re gonna let us leave. You’re not gonna try to stop us, ‘cause I just took out two armed medics with my bare fuckin’ hands, and I’m still riding that high.” He fired up the shock gun for extra measure, which made Dr M cover his head with his hands. 

“Okay, okay!” the man said. And with that, the trio ran.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie wasn’t sure how he stumbled across it, but he’d found something important. A tiny room, with no lights, and no lock on the door, full of documents. Filing cabinets covered the walls and stacks of paper littered every surface, bound in book-like bundles. 

He wasted no time grabbing the first stack of paper he saw and started to read through it. His job was to find out what was going on here, and find out is what he’d do. The radio by his side was tempting, but he wouldn’t bother Noah until he knew for sure these papers were helpful. 

Turning to a random page, he began to read.

**_Medic’s LOG: June 29th_ **

_ Due to the severity of Incident #411X, Patient One must be put under much stricter surveillance— _

Charlie skimmed that section, too tired to comprehend what ‘Incident #411X’ or ‘Patient One’ even meant. There were a few more ‘LOGs’ after this, which seemed equally boring, but he didn’t throw the papers away since they could be useful later. 

The next stack of papers held something more interesting, though. They weren’t neat and typed up as the others had been, but hand-written in red and black pen, with annotations and sketches. Charlie read what he could of the chicken-scratch writings.

A sketch of a vial of black liquid with the annotation ‘Patient One DNA’. Shock guns and scanners he’d seen the medics carrying. ‘New cure tests’ underlined twice. 

On one page, most of the writing was either coded or illegible. But it kept mentioning DNA, and genetic modification, and—

Oh. Oh shit.

Now, that was interesting. He reached for his radio and clicked a button. 

“Hey, Noah?” He said into the machine, hoping Noah wasn’t hiding from medics or guards at this moment. After a few seconds, the radio crackled to life, an exhausted voice coming through from the other end. 

“Yeah?” Hearing Noah was more comforting than Charlie thought it would be.

He flicked through some of the pages in his hands. “Come to the corridor we split up at—you’re gonna want to see this.” There was silence from the other end of the radio for a solid minute, and Charlie worried that something had happened or the radio had broken. His mind spiralled with all of the possibilities. 

His fears were quelled when the radio buzzed again.

“What did you find?” Noah asked, a hushed tone to his voice. Charlie frowned, looking at the pages, and shuddered.

“They’re trying to weaponise the virus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that chapter! 
> 
> Once this fic is over, I'm going to start work on another LC/SMPLive/YouTube-Twitch AU thing (mostly revolving around lunch club but including other people too!). However, I'm torn between which AU to write, so I'm giving you a choice! So in the comments, please let me know if you'd like to see:
> 
> 1\. An urban monsters AU  
> 2\. A Dungeons and Dragons AU  
> 3\. A boyband AU   
> 4\. A film-characters AU (where they are all characters from films who get taken to the real world)
> 
> Please let me know a) which one you like the sound of the most and b) why you like that one! Any feedback is greatly appreciated! I have plans for all of these AUs, so I'd be up for writing any of them. 
> 
> Anyway, don't forget to leave a comment and kudos, and I hope you have a great day!
> 
> xoxo Ren <3


	19. Lost in the in-between, or so it seems, I'm out of control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted, Wilbur, and Schlatt run. Noah and Charlie find trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pog guys it took less than two weeks to update! I actually have some announcements to make before we get into the fic chapter today:
> 
> 1- we now have a collection! so if you'd like to write anything for this AU, whether it be stories focussing on other streamers/YouTubers in the apocalypse, stories about the LC boys from before the fic, or anything else, you can now put it in the 'SMPzapoc au: electric boogaloo' collection! 
> 
> 2- on that note, my friend Mae wrote something for the collection! It's about everyone's favourite PVP god, Technoblade! Thanks Mae! Love you <3
> 
> 3- This is the second to last chapter! I'm so excited to share the ending of this fic with you guys. It's sure been a wild ride, and I've enjoyed all of it. Once the final chapter is posted, I will also be posting a comprehensive timeline of events for anyone who wants to write something for the collection!
> 
> 4- I've started a new fic! It's called 'From Russia With Love' and it's a spy AU focussing on Schlatt, Minx and Ty in the world of spies and secrets. I have some fun things planned for it so stick around if you like that sort of thing :)
> 
> anyway, that's enough from me. I hope you all enjoy this update, and I'll talk some more at the end!!
> 
> WARNINGS: mention and use of needles/syringes

The sound of shoes hitting the ground filled the corridors, every rapid tread pushing them forward away from the cells. Ted chose to lead the way, rushing through the halls the same way he walked ten minutes beforehand. Schlatt and Wilbur followed, breath heavy as they tried to keep up with their friend.

Ted, meanwhile, had barely broken a sweat, long legs propelling him ahead. At every corner and crossroad, bullet-like reflexes had him making choices before Schlatt or Wilbur could even ask where they were going. The electric gun in his hand sat with a finger right on the trigger, ready to attack anyone who tried to stop them.

In other words, Ted had planned this out. The only problem was that neither Schlatt nor Wilbur knew what the hell that plan entailed.

“Can—shit! Can we stop?” Schlatt called out. His legs burnt from overuse after weeks of being stationary, but he was more worried for Wilbur, whose entire body trembled when Ted slowed down, pure adrenaline keeping him going up to this point. They paused in the middle of a hallway, and Schlatt leaned against the wall, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. 

It was such a strange feeling—breathing, that is—chemical air filling his lungs, and stuttering heart beating harder as he did. Everything was so  _ obvious _ . When he was alive, he never even paid attention to it. His body would just  _ work _ . But after having nothing move for so long, after being half-dead and existing beyond the impossible, he had to do the simplest things manually. 

Wilbur gasped next to him, holding onto the wall with white knuckles. “Jesus Christ.” His legs shook and his breaths came out heavy and deep. Schlatt could only nod in agreement at his words, the taste of copper building in his throat. 

Ted raised an eyebrow. “They really fucked you guys up, huh?” He didn’t sound as surprised as his word-choice suggested. Schlatt glared at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, though it held little malice. He wondered why his voice sounded so raspy, then remembered he needed air to live. After a few controlled breaths, the feeling in his fingertips returned, and the lightheadedness that had grown had dissipated. It was going to be so annoying trying to remember that. 

Wilbur had calmed down slightly next to him but still held the wall for support, limbs still shaking. “There’s a—a door. Behind you.” His speech small and breathless, he nodded towards where Ted was standing in the hallway. Ted turned around to see an immense metal door, much like the others they’d passed on the way.

“Okay? What’s your point?” Ted asked, examining the heavy door with a confused expression. Wilbur groaned and pointed at the edge where the wall met the door. 

“Look!” he said. Schlatt tried to see, but Ted blocked his view. Ted, however, finally understood what Wilbur was pointing at. A tiny gap between the wall and the door, a sliver of darkness separating the two. Which must mean—

“It’s open. Hold on—” Ted placed a hand on the centre of the door where a slight indent made the shape of a handle. He pulled, putting his weight on his left leg and leaning backwards to give himself more force. A grunt escaped him, and the door creaked open far enough to put an arm through the gap. He let go of the handle, chest heaving in laboured breaths.

Schlatt pushed himself away from the wall and put his hand into the gap, the cold metal making his arm twitch as he helped his friend open the door further. He understood why Ted had trouble opening the door, as it was heavy enough for even two people to struggle. If Schlatt was at the top of his game, maybe he’d be able to move it on his own.

Soon enough, they opened the door halfway, blocking a fair portion of the corridor with its sheer size. Thankfully, there was still enough space to get by if they needed to make a quick escape. Schlatt moved to the side to let Ted and Wilbur investigate the newly exposed room.

Dust particles danced in beams of light as it poured into the room from the hallway, highlighting the corners and crevices with a clinical white. Inside the compact space were several shelves and boxes, all covered in plastic canisters of varying shapes and sizes. 

“What… are these?” Wilbur asked, still quiet. Schlatt felt a spike of worry in his chest at the way Wilbur was acting. He sounded exhausted, and he probably was, with no food or water for at least a day along with all the running. Not to mention the mental toll—though they were both feeling that. The adrenaline in his system must be dissipating by now. 

Wilbur moved out of the way so that Schlatt could look inside the room. He squinted, trying to read the labels on each canister through the darkness. Lucky for him, he’d kept some heightened senses from when he was… ill. With some effort, he could just make out the letters on some of the nearest canisters.

_ Gasoline. _

He laughed, walking into the room and picking up a medium-sized canister. Of all the rooms they just happened to stop by, this is the one they get? This is their ticket out of here. 

He passed a canister to Ted, who took it and then grabbed one for himself. “Holy shit! Fuel!” A wide grin stretched across his face as he carried the two large containers. Wilbur broke a weak smile and picked up the smallest one he could find. 

“If we can get to the car, we’ll be set to go,” Ted announced. Schlatt nodded at his words, but his mind fell elsewhere. Dozens of cans of gasoline stared back at him. They were getting out. Never coming back. This was perfect, wasn’t it? Why didn’t he feel satisfied?   
  
His hand twitched at his side. “Does anyone have a light?” The words spilt from his mouth before he could stop them, distant and thoughtless. Silence encompassed the group, and he felt two sets of eyes staring at his back. He didn’t dare to move.

“I do.” He heard the shuffling of clothes and something small and cardboard being placed into his hand. Looking down, he saw a box of matches, worn and used with hundreds of marks across the sides. Some parts of the box were scorched, charred a deep black. Schlatt let out a sharp, shaking exhale—thank god for Ted. 

He took a step further into the room. “Wait for me at the entrance—” he looked over his shoulder to see Wilbur’s terrified expression—” I’m gonna make sure they never do this again.” The box of matches felt volatile as he hid it in the pocket of his jeans, as if it would spark a light at any moment and set the room ablaze with it. Still, he had no second thoughts about what he wanted to do.

“Schlatt—” Ted gripped Wilbur’s shoulder and gave him a look, and Schlatt silently thanked him for it. He didn’t need anyone to put doubts in his mind right now.

Ted backed out of the room and nodded. “Do what you need to do. We’ll be waiting with the others. Don’t fuck it up.” Schlatt laughed at that. He let them start to walk away, Wilbur lingering in the doorway for a few seconds before turning to leave. 

Then he registered Ted’s words.  _ Others _ .

“Wait,” he called, stopping Ted and Wilbur in their tracks, “I thought it was just you guys and Noah—maybe Cooper—” they didn’t need to know that he thought Cooper was dead—” Are there more? Have you found more people?” The tiniest level of faith laced his voice. Survivors meant things weren’t all gone. Survivors meant hope.

“Wilbur didn’t tell you?” Ted asked from out of his sight. Schlatt shook his head. He didn’t blame his friend, though, he wasn’t in the best state when they reunited. An odd nervousness hit him as he waited for an answer.

Wilbur placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We—we found Travis, Carson, and Charlie. They were here. Cooper’s alive, too—uh, just about.” The words didn’t process for a good ten seconds, Schlatt’s brain going into overdrive as he put the names to faces in his head. Then, sudden and unexpected, he laughed.

“Hell yeah!” Schlatt said, resisting the urge to punch the air, “you better tell them I’m blowing this place to pieces, aight?” The excitement in his words was clear as day. He thought he’d never see those guys again—what were they doing all the way out here? Wilbur smiled and nodded, and Ted peered from around the door. 

“Let’s get going, I don’t know how much time we have.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie and Noah carried stacks of paper as they snuck through the empty halls. Each file and LOG a crucial piece of information about the Virus, and Patient One, who they both had ideas about, but couldn’t bear to discuss. 

The chemical smells and whirring machines were bothering Noah, each slight noise startling him into almost dropping the documents. Every time something made too loud a sound or some familiar smell hit his nose, he’d be taken back to that night. A shotgun in his hand and metal under his fingertips, a creature almost on top of him. Gurgling growls coming from the monster’s jaws, snapping at him. The smell of copper, the taste of it burnt into his throat, into his skin. No matter how many showers he took, he still felt that black blood covering him.

It still kept him awake. It would for a long time.

He wondered if Charlie felt the same, if there were things he hated about this place, too. Maybe he couldn’t sleep either, the memories of whatever happened before they got here haunting him for hours. As selfish as it was, Noah couldn’t help but hope he wasn’t the only one. 

His radio crackled at his side, and he shifted the papers to one hand to pick it up. He clicked a button, and a distressed voice came through the speaker. “Noah? Noah, pick up!” It was Carson, which immediately had him worried. Carson would only use the radio in extreme circumstances.

He pressed another button. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He tried to keep his voice low enough to not be heard by any medics or guards nearby, but loud enough for the radio to pick up. He walked with cautious steps, pressing down the first button as he looked around the hall. Charlie was looking at him with expectant eyes, and the radio buzzed.

“There’s—oh shit—there’s a guy with two medics. He looks pissed. I think he’s coming your way!” Noah’s heart dropped, stopping him in his tracks. If there were three people coming towards them, they’d be outnumbered, and with the levels of technology this place had, they wouldn’t stand a chance. 

He brought the radio to his mouth a final time as the faintest of voices echoed down the corridor. “Thanks. We’ll see you at the entrance.” With that, he placed the radio back into his belt. Charlie snapped his head towards a corner they couldn’t see, voices and footsteps getting closer. Noah backed away, down the hallway they just came from.

But if they went that way, they’d just be getting further from the others. And they could get lost, trapped in the halls with no way of escape. Noah’s heart pounded in his ears, the documents in his arms weighing him down and restricting his movements. How would he even throw a punch?

Three pairs of footsteps grew closer still, and three men in long, white coats turned the corner. Two of them looked like regular medics, no weapons and obscured faces, Noah reckoned he and Charlie could take them out. The one between the two medics, however, wore only a face mask, his dark eyes visible. The three of them stopped, and the one in the centre looked Noah and Charlie up and down. He removed his mask with one deft hand and smirked.

“Oh, more rebels? Trying to get out? With all my research nonetheless.” In his hand, he held a syringe full of some sort of liquid, red and dangerous. Noah thought this might be the ‘Dr M’ Charlie had mentioned when explaining the documents.   
  
Charlie stood his ground, closer to the men than Noah. “Let us pass and we won’t hurt anyone.” It wasn’t threatening from Charlie’s mouth, but Noah had known him long enough to realise that it was genuine. Panic rushed into him and he tried to catch Charlie’s eye to tell him to back down, but his friend had his mind dead set on the ‘enemy’ ahead. 

“That’s sweet,” the man—Noah was sure he was Dr M—said. He lifted the syringe up, making the needle glint in the light above, and gave it a few taps. Noah couldn’t move, frozen to the spot in horror as Dr M grabbed one medic and plunged the needle into their neck, pushing the red serum into them before discarding them on the floor. They lay crumpled on the ground like a rag doll, unmoving. 

“What the fuck?” Charlie said, voicing Noah’s thoughts. Dr M laughed, a wild and evil sound, while the remaining medic stood like a statue next to him. 

The body on the floor twitched, limbs spasming wildly. Charlie took a step back, within an arm’s length of Noah, and he could see an expression of fear written all over his face. Noah watched as the body started to move more and more, a looming sense of dread building deep in his chest as the scene unfolded before his eyes.

A putrid smell hit Noah, stinging his lungs when he breathed it in. By the time he realised what was happening, it felt too late. The body moved even more violently than before, shaking as it lifted itself up from the floor. Dr M smiled, and completely black eyes snapped open, staring directly at Noah.

Charlie took some more steps back, and the creature growled. Noah felt him grab his arm and pull, but he stood in place, a thousand horrible memories coming back to him in waves. Blood. Shotgun. Metal.

“Noah, c’mon! We have to go!” Charlie’s voice broke him out of his dazed state, and he turned. His friend’s hand gripped his arm tight, a desperate look in his eyes. Noah heard the creature getting closer. 

He nodded, and they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO!! I hope you enjoyed that absolute mess of a chapter. It's the longest one, standing at 2400 words! It took a while to gather the motivation to do this one, and that's probably because I don't want this fic to end :( but I hope it was worth the wait! 
> 
> As for adding to the collection, if you have any questions relating to the lore of the universe or anything like that, feel free to ask!
> 
> Don't forget to comment and leave kudos! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day xoxo
> 
> \- ren


	20. Lost in the in-between, but it can't keep me asleep for long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for supporting me through writing this fic. It's been a rocky uphill climb, but it's been worth it. You're all amazing, every one of you who are reading this right now. The commenters, the kudos-givers, the casual readers. You're all great, and I wouldn't have been able to finish this fic without you. I'm trying not to get emotional, but oh well. 
> 
> With that being said, I'd like to give special thanks to some friends and family who've been extra cool through this whole thing:  
> \- My Aunt, for being super cool and supportive, and accidentally being indoctrinated into the Lunch Club fanbase  
> \- Mae (Astro), for being the nicest person ever and writing a oneshot for this fic's collection  
> \- Caro, for being a great honorary mom and amazing friend (ily!!!!)  
> \- Everyone on the AU Voids Discord server, you guys are the best   
> \- All my irl friends who've had to put up with me ranting about this fic for the past few months
> 
> Also, I know you already know this but this AU has a Collection! So, now the fic is done, I'm opening it up for anyone to write something for it! It can be pre-canon, post-canon, different 'characters' (ie different Content Creators in the same universe) or whatever you like! Just drop me a comment asking about what you want to write about and I'll make sure I haven't planned to write anything for it!
> 
> Oh yeah, I'll be writing a few more oneshots for this universe, so keep an eye out for that ;)
> 
> Now, without further ado. We finish the fic.

Travis was scared. He’d been scared for a long time now, but this may have been the first instance where he really  _ felt _ scared. In his heart. It was a gnawing fear, something with too many teeth and knife-like claws sitting in his chest, ready to chew away at him. A rational fear, fear of death. Of never making it out of this place. Of never getting the chance to fix anything.

Because it was his fault. His fault because he was mad at Carson, so he wasn’t watching the doors. His fault because he missed the sound of footsteps racing down towards them. His fault because Carson had to pull him around a corner before they were spotted. And then they were warning their friends over the radio, but it was too late. The medics had already passed. If only he’d been paying attention.

So yeah. Fear. Terror. Horror. Whatever you want to call it. What if the medics kill Charlie and Noah, if (when) they find them? What if he never gets to see their faces again? What if he dies next to someone he can’t even look in the eye? 

That barely mattered, anyway. Nothing mattered anymore. Ted hadn’t responded to a single message, Schlatt and Wilbur were who-knows-where (probably dead), Charlie and Noah were probably being hunted down right now because of his own incompetence, Cooper… He’d die here with the rest of them. He’d die being remembered as a  _ coward.  _

Travis shuddered, feeling a hand touch his shoulder. Carson was shaking, though Travis wasn’t about to point it out. They’d been hiding in this corner for five minutes, and the medics were long gone. 

“We need to move,” Carson said, voice low and cautious. Travis nodded once, and didn’t bother asking if they’d go back to find Cooper. Or anyone else. They wouldn’t.

In seconds they were walking again, faster this time, with Carson in the lead. Every hallway was the same, all metal and sterile and symmetrical. Travis wondered how his friend knew which way to go, but he assumed it must be an instinct of some sort that he could never quite grasp. Or, well, he used to be good at that. 

Not anymore.

Struggling to keep up with Carson, Travis grabbed his arm, slowing him to a stop. “What—what’s the plan again?” He sounded stupid. Like he didn’t listen when Ted briefed them hours ago. That wasn’t true. Stress had eaten away at his jumbled memories. When you don’t speak, important moments can slip away, none of your own contributions adding to the scene. Or maybe he just forgot. Maybe he was just stupid.

Carson huffed. “We go to the main entrance, the others will be there, we leave.” He paused, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Travis thought, for a second, he looked like his old self. Awkward, comforting, in any other situation, he’d crack a joke. Then that person vanished, and he once again took on a bitter frown.

Once this was over, he hoped things could be good again. “If they aren’t there?” He still wasn’t used to using his voice, and his words came out weak and raspy, but Carson understood.

“We wait as long as we can.” They were reaching the end of a hallway that looked slightly different from the others. Wider, fewer doors. They might be near the main entrance.

Travis grimaced. “I hope no one’s left behind.” The faint smell of nature formed softly through chemicals. Almost there. So close to escaping. He could almost believe they’d be okay. While they walked, he imagined the seven of them—no, eight—free from here. Walking away with no more fear and no more hurt. Happy and reunited as a group once again. 

It would only happen if they all made it in time.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie’s heart was in his throat as he ran after Noah, the man-made creature right behind them. He could hear it growling, chasing them through the maze of hallways, probably further and further away from their destination. Noah darted around a corner with lightning reflexes, and Charlie cursed at him.

“You’re losing papers!” he warned, eyeing the document pages flying past them from the stack in Noah’s hands. For a fleeting second, he imagined one landing on the floor and the creature slipping on it comically. For a fleeting second, he almost laughed. Then, of course, he remembered the situation.

He watched the ground. It wouldn’t be so funny if  _ he  _ fell. Or hah, maybe it would. Maybe it’d be real funny if he just died here. In the middle of the night. In the middle of nowhere.

Noah groaned, heavy steps pushing him forward. “I don’t give a shit!” This was fair. Charlie’s mind raced, thoughts too jumbled for coherency. The question of why the creature was so fast flashed by, but now wasn’t exactly the time to analyse what was going on.

All he could focus on was running. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. Keep moving. If you don’t keep moving, you’ll die, Charlie. You’ll die and your friend won’t be able to save you. So don’t die. Just run. Don’t think about the pain in your legs or your chest. You can have a heart attack when you’re safe.  _ Just. Run. _

“Turn right!” Noah broke him from the continuous stream of consciousness. Charlie nodded, having no idea where they were going. Were they getting closer to the way out, or further from it? Why did life never go right for them?

All of a sudden, they were in the building’s foyer. A wide-open space with a desk and a door and two faces Charlie didn’t think he’d see again. And all of that made him almost forget they were being chased. 

Before he could greet Travis and Carson (who looked as shocked as he felt) he sensed a presence behind him. He turned and moved back just in time to avoid a clawed hand to the face, but the creature seemed set on attacking again. 

Staring death in the face, Charlie felt like this might be it. He might just die now, so close to freedom. How stupid would that be?

The creature’s black eyes showed him his own terrified reflection as he scrambled to back away. His back hit a wall. No. Someone was screaming, probably Travis, but since when did Travis scream? With his heart breaking his chest, Charlie closed his eyes and flinched, waiting for the creature to end it all. 

…

The moment never came.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ted held his stun-gun to the back of the monster’s head, canisters of fuel left on the foyer floor. His finger pressed down steady on the trigger, shocking the creature at full force. It spasmed and writhed and screamed, electricity coursing through it, and Ted could only imagine the pain a shock might cause. 

But he wasn’t looking to cause pain, he was looking to kill the damn thing. So he held the gun to its head, wrapping his arm around his neck and hoping it wouldn’t bite him as he kept it in place. 

After a minute, the creature went limp, and Ted tossed it to the floor. Charlie looked up at him, shaking like a leaf, eyes wide and fearful.

“S—sorry…” Charlie stuttered, “I think—I think I’m in  _ shock _ .” He sniffed, glancing at the creature’s body on the floor. There was a beat of silence, then a pained, slightly panicked laugh. Which turned into more laughs, and a sob, and the occasional whispered word that Ted couldn’t hear. At this point, he didn’t know whether Charlie was laughing at the pun or something else entirely. Something not funny at all.

Ted just stared at his friend, who seemed to be having a complete breakdown. He wouldn’t stop  _ laughing _ , even through tears, and he crumpled to the floor next to the creature’s body with his head in his hands. 

“Charlie, stop.” Carson’s voice broke the moment like a knife through glass. It was the calmest Ted had heard it all day, though (which wasn’t saying much, since it was about 1 am and Ted hadn’t heard him at all today) and he walked over with an unreadable expression, crouching down next to his friend. 

It felt like they’d done this a million times before. Maybe they had, and he’d just never seen. Ted backed away, deciding to leave him to it. He was never good with upset people.

At some point, Wilbur had walked in. Ted had left him behind when he saw Charlie and Noah running, but now he stood in the middle of the foyer, looking sorry for himself. He held the small canister in his hand, gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles were white. Ted nodded to him.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Wilbur asked, peering over Ted’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Ted shrugged, content knowing that his hysterical friend would be  _ physically _ fine, for now. He walked past Wilbur, patting him on the shoulder and leaving him to stand awkwardly. The sound of footsteps coming from somewhere in the building reminded him they were on a time limit.

Noah leaned against a wall, head snapping in his direction as he approached. “We have to go soon.” His voice was low, hushed so only Ted could hear. There was a darkness in his eyes he’d seen before. When they were travelling together, sometimes, when they were both tired of driving, when the silence went on for miles, when there was nothing left. 

No one to talk to. No one  _ new _ to talk to. Just them and their laundry lists of thoughts running into the ground with nothing else to share. 

“We can’t leave without Schlatt.” Ted reminded, too loud. Always too loud. He felt several pairs of eyes on his back. Great, now they had to have this conversation. The cabin-fever Noah had exhibited, even now, surrounded by people, suddenly made sense. Trapped, Ted stayed quiet, praying someone else would speak. Charlie sat in the corner, breathing heavily with Carson holding his shoulder. Wilbur stared at him like an owl. Noah raised an eyebrow.

“We should wait for Cooper, too,” Travis said, voice small but audible. And, dammit, if things weren’t awkward before… 

An engine started somewhere outside, shattering the tension. Ted rushed to the large double doors, pushing them open. He recognised that sound. He’d recognise it anywhere.

In the darkness, floodlights showed the scene. Outside, two bodies lay at the outskirts of the building. Guards. Between the open metal gates, a large, black truck sat on the path, whirring away. Ted’s truck. His car. He almost cried seeing it again. The medics must have put it in storage somewhere. It didn’t even have a scratch on it. 

The door at the driver's seat swung open, bouncing a little against the air with the force. The engine revved, just for show. Dramatic. Ted took a step back into the building, worried that some rogue was inside the vehicle. 

What he didn’t expect to see was the face of his friend stepping out of the car.

Travis rushed to Ted’s side. “Cooper?” And it was. The skater stood proudly next to the truck, waving over at them. Ted sensed the others walking to the doors, too, and Wilbur stood right next to him, a hint of a smile on his face. Cooper spotted him and his eyes brightened. Ah, yeah, they hadn’t seen each other since they got to this hellhole. 

“Will!” Cooper shouted, “I saved somethin’ for you!” He reached back into the truck, fumbling around for whatever he wanted to show Wilbur. Ted took the opportunity to start walking towards the truck, going back only to pick up the canisters of fuel he  _ knew  _ would have a use. 

Cooper pulled back away from the truck, and Ted struggled for a second to figure out what he was holding. Then he realised. Oh, Wilbur’s guitar. He heard a gasp from behind him, and rapid footsteps until Wilbur was running past him, and grabbing the guitar with a string of ‘thank you’s to Cooper. 

Then more footsteps raced past, and Travis tackled Cooper with a hug. Ted let himself laugh at Cooper’s yelp of shock. 

Turning back, he saw Carson standing further away with Noah and Charlie, both holding stacks of documents and papers. Charlie still appeared frazzled, but he wasn’t breaking down anymore, so Ted counted it as a win. Carson gave him a quick smile, then checked the empty foyer behind him, tilting his head as if listening to something. 

“We need to go. Get in the truck,” Carson said, a spark of worry in his eyes. Ted sniffed the air, the faintest hint of smoke sitting at the back of his throat, chemical and dangerous. Ah.

Wilbur looked up from his guitar. “What about Schlatt?” Ted understood the worry. Smoke had started to waft outside, which meant Schlatt had started his fire (damn pyromaniac) and he should be running to meet them any second. Either that or he’s dead. But Ted wasn’t keen on that option.

“He’ll catch up. Cooper, move over, I’m driving.” Ted moved to the driver’s side of the car, and Cooper got out of the way. Good. Ted sat behind the wheel, feeling alive again. Oh, how he’d missed this.

After a beat, Noah got into the passenger’s side, smiling at him. It all felt so familiar. Ted placed the canisters on the floor behind his seat as the back doors opened and Cooper pushed the seat down.

“The weapons are in the trunk, by the way,” he said, moving to let Carson, Charlie and Travis sit in the very back of the car before pushing the seat back up. It clicked into place. 

More smoke billowed from the building’s windows, Ted watching through the rearview mirror. “Seatbelts, everyone.” His words were sarcastic, but also a warning that they’d be in for a chaotic ride. Cooper and Wilbur fell into the seats behind them, Wilbur clutching his guitar like it was his child and Cooper flashing Charlie a trouble-making grin. 

Ted wanted to focus on his friends, but the empty seat next to Wilbur was starting to make him more anxious. Come on, Schlatt. A thousand possibilities rushed through his mind. His friend could have burnt, or been captured, or shocked, or chased down by another one of those fast zombies. 

Hah. Zombies. He’d laughed when the news first called them that. 

No one was laughing now. “Maybe we should just go…” Noah turned to him with a grimace. An expression that showed how little confidence he had left. Ted was faced with an impossible choice. Drive away from the burning building, escaping the smoke and the possibility of more zombies. Or wait for his friend, the person he promised he’d wait for.

A minute ticked by, silent, tense, terrifying. 

And then Ted’s prayers were answered. In the rearview mirror, he saw the Labs’ doors open, a tall figure rushing out and sprinting towards them. Ted grinned and let out a sharp laugh when the figure tripped over his own feet. 

That alerted Noah, who turned around to try to see what was going on. Apparently, he saw too, because a smile appeared on his face. 

The door behind Ted was pulled violently open, and Schlatt practically threw himself into the empty seat. He reached out and slammed the door, gasping for breath. There was quiet in the car for a good ten seconds, before Cooper burst out laughing. Ted sighed, relief flooding his entire body.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he said. This, combined with Cooper’s hysterics, caused everyone to at least chuckle. Ted smiled, and things finally felt complete again. Whole. Almost normal, if it wasn’t for the burning building. 

Schlatt, exhausted, leaned back into his seat. “Just drive, man.” 

And so he did.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carson and Travis watched Promise Labs burn through the back windshield as they drove away, further and further from the vast building. The fire lit up the night sky, highlighting the trees and road with bright orange whips. The quiet of it was beautiful. 

“Hey Trav,” Carson said, turning to his friend. Charlie sat between them but was on the verge of passing out due to the late hour and, well, stress. Travis nodded in acknowledgement, dark eyes catching the amber hues in an uncanny way. He might have been crying. Carson didn’t point it out.

There were thousands of things he wanted to say. Everything from reuniting properly with Schlatt to asking Cooper what made him change his mind. But it could all wait. That was the beauty of this. It could wait. They had time.

He looked back at the fire and smiled. “Happy Fourth of July.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all so much for reading. I'll be writing new stuff soon, so keep on the lookout! Another big fic is on the way :D This was 2800 words long. AAAAAAA.
> 
> I have no idea what to say here. So. Drop a comment if you enjoyed and/or want to write something for the Collection. Also sorry this final chapter took so long. I think I was putting it off because I was scared of finishing the fic and no one liking it haha. Hopefully those fears were irrational, eh?
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day xoxo
> 
> \- ren


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